


Some things don't matter

by MartinChristopher



Series: Some Things Don't Matter [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Bisexual John Watson, Blind Date, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Dancing, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Kidlock, Love Confessions, M/M, Online Dating, Online Romance, PTSD John, Rugby Captain John, Sherlock Holmes and Bees, Tattoos, Teenlock, True Love, deeper friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 44,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7921738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinChristopher/pseuds/MartinChristopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's having a drunking idea after the New Year's Eve Party - he can't decide whether the idea is really stupid, or maybe life changing awesome.</p><p>A MisterBee and a GrumpyTintin are chatting for a few month, and in the meantime Sherlock's and John's friendship, gets deeper and deeper, because of some slightly changes in Sherlock's behavior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What I truly want to have in my life

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Reviews are really welcome, whether they're good or bad. It helps to get better and to see what you people like and dislike. :-)  
> So feel free to comment some thing. 
> 
> Love,  
> Martin

_**\- New Years Day, late evening, London, 221b Baker Street, Sherlock’s bedroom -** _

 

The curtains in Sherlock’s bedroom were closed; it was almost completely dark in his room. The only light came from a laptop, which was standing on a pillow on Sherlock’s lap.  
Sherlock was dressed in a long dark blue pajama pants, and a white T-Shirt; he leaned against the back rest, and the fingers of his right hand drummed impatiently onto the bed sheet.

What has he done? Why on earth had he thought that this would be a good idea? And what the hell had he expected to get from it?

He sighed, he knew the answers to his questions very well.

First one; he had made himself a profile on a dating website, that included an app for mobile phones. He had named himself MisterBee, and on top of that, he had sent a very dull message to someone with the name GrumpyTintin.

Second one; he had thought it would be a great idea, because last night, he had been more than just drunk. John had dragged him to the Yard’s New Year's Eve Party, and in some way, god knows why, he had enjoyed it very much. And he had drunk with John and Greg and Molly and - just for the record, he wanted to delete that detail - he had drunk with Anderson. He had drunk several beers, wine – red and white, Whiskey, Gin Tonic, and some Shots, during a dull game they had played. And after that amount of alcohol and in his sleepy state, he had thought, that an online profile on a dating website would be a very good idea.

Third one; he expected to find something, what he usually rejects. But deep down in his heart and deep down in his mind palace, he knew, it was the thing he truly wanted, the thing he wanted the most in his life; above all other things.  
Above all crime scenes; all experiments; all the other stuff, he filled his life with, to be happy or to betray himself to be happy.  
Love.  
He wanted to love someone and to be loved by someone.  
That was the thing he had expected from his silly drunken idea – to find someone, who loved him the way he is, who loved him for his hobbies, the things he liked, the things he wanted in life.  
And it was easier to do it online.  
In real life, he struggled with himself, with the person he is. So, he pretended to be a cold hearted sociopath.  
It was easier.  
No feelings mean: no hurt, which means being happy and satisfied, in a way. At least until he opened the room to his own truth, to the person he really is.

That’s why he had set up that profile and downloaded that app. That’s why he hasn’t uploaded a picture, no name, no city, no age; no height, weight, eyecolour, haircolour; no job. He had wanted to meet someone, who doesn’t care about the gender, a name, the age, a job, an appearance. For him, it doesn’t matter if the person was male, named Claus, 30 years old, a craftsman, thick, small and grey-haired. As long as their souls would fit, it would fit in a relationship, and they would be able to make each other happy.

Nevertheless, he was about to delete that dull profile. It was a bad idea, really bad and silly.  
He opened his eyes; the page had loaded, long ago, but he had been totally into his mind palace.  
Sherlock typed his username and his password, and waited for a few seconds, until the page had fully loaded.

He wrinkled his forehead and raised an eyebrow.  
A message?  
He was surprised, he hadn’t expected it. He had just written something really, really dull.

 

**\- Hello,**  
**You haven’t a picture, just like me. -**

 

It was more than dull, but he had been so drunk. Maybe the message was from someone else, someone who complained about the fact, that there wasn’t a picture.  
He thought about it for a moment; he was curious, so he didn’t search for the process to delete the account; instead of that, he opened the mailbox.  
He wrinkled his forehead again. Actually, that GrumpyTintin fellow had answered him.  
He opened the message.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: GrumpyTintin**  
**To: MisterBee**  
**4.56 pm**  
\- Hello Mister Bee... buzz buzz, (I’m sorry, the alcohol from New Year's Eve is still in my veins and I’m a bit sleepy.)  
Well, yes. You’re right, I haven’t a picture. That’s, because there’s more about me, than just a face and a good looking naked body. (Which I haven’t.)  
That was stupid babbling. I’m sorry.  
Thanks for your message. I need to ask something so that you will write back.  
Um, how was your New Year's Eve Party?  
Greetings  
GrumpyTintin  
\----------------------------------------

In a way it was really smart, Sherlock thought. And not just smart, the buzz buzz had made him grin, as well as the comment after the naked body part and that he needed to ask a question. That message was just smart and funny and worth a reply.

It was worth a reply, because he wanted to have not just someone in his life who loved him, but also someone, who could make him smile, grin or laugh. And that GrumpyTintin fellow had made him grin.

He switched off his deduction skills. He didn’t want to deduce that guy. And that he was a guy, was almost the only thing that this man had revealed in his profile. Anything else was really sketchy.  
A man, who likes sports, books, going out with friends, travel.  
But it was enough for Sherlock and his own profile was almost the same.  
No gender, but the Mister in his name was clear enough; likes books, music, travel, dancing, curious with new things.

He wouldn’t delete his profile.  
He would write back and wait for what will be coming next.  
The green circle with the hook inside, told him, that this guy was online at the moment, so he opened the chat mode.

\---------------------------------------  
**New chat: MisterBee – GrumpyTintin**

 **MisterBee (MB):** Hello, grumpy fellow. You are online, so I thought, I could write you here.  
**GrumpyTintin (GTT):** Oh, hey. That’s great Buzzbuzz. I’m still sleepy, so please forgive me my stupid babbling.  
**MB:** My text was more stupid than your smart answer to it.  
**GTT:** Thanks for your compliment, but I didn’t think that your text was stupid, it has been just a true statement, and I like the fact, that you don’t have a picture and that you don’t reveal your whole life and appearance in your profile.  
**MB:** You’re welcome. I wouldn’t have thought, that I will meet someone, who is as mysterious as I am.  
**GTT:** Mysterious, that sounds interesting. Well, yes. You know... I don’t know, why it is so important to show my face or my body, like the other girls or the men. And I don’t know why to set up my name, or age or something like that. I mean, I wouldn’t love a person more or less, whether the name is Carl or Paul, or whatever.  
**MB:** I agree with you. It doesn’t matter. And you’re right, there are a lot of pictures, with naked body parts or awkward faces.  
**GTT:** Awkward faces? :-D. You know they want to turn you on with that or flirt with you. But I know what you mean, silly duck faces, it’s more weird than anything else. And it seems, that they have just that to show. You know? Just a look, no personality.  
**MB:** I’m not turned on by that. And I don’t want to get turned on by that. :-D. It’s not the thing that I have in mind, when I imagine how a person I like, should look at me. And well, maybe they didn’t have more to show, than their appearance. But you write something about your personality. Grumpy. But what’s the meaning of Tintin?  
\----------------------------------------

A few minutes passed away, without an answer from GrumpyTintin. Sherlock bowed his head and put the laptop aside. He stood up and walked into the kitchen, where he met John.  
John turned his head around, he stood at the kitchen counter in front of his tea cup, waiting for his tea.  
“Hey, you’re still awake.” John smiled, and rubbed his eyes, with a yawn.  
“No, I’m a sleepwalker.” Sherlock answered drily, and walked to the fridge to get some water.  
John burst out into a laugh.  
“That was funny Sherlock.” He still laughed. “And yeah, I know, it was a silly question, because it’s obvious that you’re awake. You know, it was just a nice statement to start a conversation.”  
Sherlock took one of the water bottles out of the fridge, which were lying next to some hands, which were wrapped in a box.  
“I know John, I’m not stupid. You look really tired, get some sleep, you need to go to work tomorrow.”  
John nodded.  
“Hm, don’t remind me. I have celebrated a bit too much.” He put the tea bag away and took his mug. “I’m off to bed. I’m home at 5 o’clock. Sleep well, Sherlock.” John smiled and squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder.  
“Yes, good night, John.” Sherlock nodded with a smile.  
He looked after him, took a glass and walked to his bedroom, with the water bottle and the glass.  
The grumpy fellow had answered a minute ago.

\----------------------------------------  
**GTT:** Sorry, I’m online with that app, and I couldn’t find my charger, and I needed something to drink.  
**GTT:** I’m not always grumpy, a bit sometimes. ;-). You don’t know Tintin!? It’s a comic figure. I’m a really huge fan of it.  
**MB:** It’s okay.  
**MB:** I just read books, probably, I couldn’t name one comic. Who’s Tintin?  
**GTT:** He’s a reporter, he writes reportages. And during that, he discovers crimes and travels around the world to solve them. He undergoes adventures with his dog. There are original comics and new editions with just another cover and that stuff, and movies.  
**MB:** And can he solve it every time? ****  
**GTT:** Yeah ;-), of course, it’s Tintin, he can solve anything, because it’s a story, :-). You know, he’s the hero, he gets involved in some mystery, he likes riddles and he gets through some adventures and solves the riddle at the end. And you like bees?  
**MB:** Maybe I will look after one of these comics and read it. And yes, I really like bees, probably as much as you like Tintin. :-) ****  
**GTT:** I’m not that much into bees, I know how they look like and what they do, that’s all. :-D There’s probably a bit more than yellow, black, flying, honey, stings. ****  
**MB:** Amazing, how much you know about them :-D. There’s much more about bees, Tintin. ****  
**GTT:** I will do a bit of research in the next days, to impress you, Buzzbuzz.  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock grinned, not just because of that pet name; to be honest, he was grinning and smiling like mad, since he had started chatting with that Tintin guy. That was the reason, why he had been cozy and had joked around in the kitchen with John. Normally, they just laugh about murder, crime scenes and that stuff. He had never made John laugh, because of one of his normal jokes or ironic or sarcastic statements. But in the kitchen, he was just too cozy and relaxed, that he was totally himself, without any wall and pretending.

 **\----------------------------------------**  
**MB:** I’m looking forward to it, and I’m stretched to breaking point. And I remember me, that I haven’t answered your question. The one in the mail. New Year's Eve was nice. I wasn’t in the mood, but my best friend had invited me to a party and well, I enjoyed it in the end. It was great and I’m glad that I was with him. How about you? ****  
**GTT:** That’s great. I have celebrated with a few friends, my best friend was there as well. It was lovely. I was really happy, that I was able to spend the last day of the old year, and the first day of the new year, with him. He’s a great guy and I really like to do something with him. But often, it isn’t possible, and so it was really nice, that it worked on New Year's Eve. ****  
**MB:** So we both had a great night. :-) ****  
**GTT:** True. :-) You’re speaking about the night. It’s late, Buzzbuzz. I am in the bad situation, that I need to go to work. I would love to chat with you, but I’m really tired. I hope to hear from you soon. ****  
**MB:** That’s truly a shame. But you get my permission to go to bed. Tell your boss or whatever, that you have to chat with a nice guy, and that you need some free time. ****  
**GTT:** You’re funny. :-D. I will tell him. ;-). Good night, Buzzbuzz. ****  
**MB:** Good night, Tintin. :-)  
_GrumpyTintin is offline._  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock closed the website, he shut down the laptop and laid him on the floor next to his bed.  
He smiled like a maniac, took his water, sipped it down and put the glass back to the bedside drawer.  
He slid into the bed, his arms were crossed under his head.  
He had enjoyed that lovely little chat. It had been funny, and it had been great to talk to that guy, whoever he was.  
He would write him tomorrow, asking about his day, about his day at work, wherever that was.  
It was almost unbelievable, that this drunken idea turned out into something good. Although, he didn’t know much about that grumpy Tintin, and if they would write again; but tonight, he had had a nice chat.  
Now his mind told him, that it was a bad idea to have wanted to delete that account.  
Maybe he would find what he truly wants to have in his life, in and with that Tintin bloke.

It was the first time, since a lot of years, that Sherlock falls asleep, without being deathly exhausted. He had just felt completely cozy, comfortable and happy with himself.


	2. Night Shift at St. Barts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is working at the A&E of the St. Barts Hospital.  
> Sherlock's spamming him.  
> A surprising person comes to the A&E.
> 
> And GrumpyTintin is having a little chat with MisterBee.

**\- Thursday, January/14-2016, 3 o'clock, London, St. Barts, Ambulance & Emergency -**

Tonight was a quiet night at the A&E in the St. Barts Hospital in London. It was not much going on, at least, John hadn’t much to do. He was just sitting behind a computer and typing a letter for a patient.  
He wasn’t in a hurry, the patient would stay the night.  
John worked at the A&E, since half a year now; he had quit the other job, because he was bored and he didn’t want to be just a doctor for a nasty flu. The injury from Afghanistan had destroyed his dream to become a surgeon, no one would employ him with a bad shoulder and a hand, which trembled sometimes. But at least, he was able to work at the A&E, and that was much better than the old job. He enjoyed it really much, although that means night shifts.  
He didn’t work every day. He was working three days a week, full time. Since Sherlock was back, and after a big dispute, they both were back in business, as consulting detective Sherlock Holmes and blogger Dr. John Watson. And that means money from the work at the A&E, money from Afghanistan and money from case clients.

John’s mobile phone vibrated in his white doctor trousers. He pulled it out - obviously Sherlock. The phone vibrated again, again, again and again. John sighed and opened the messages.

\- _I’m bored._ -  
\- _Bored John!_ -  
\- _John, entertain me, it’s boring without you._ -  
\- _Why are you working at the clinic, we could perfectly live with the money from the cases!_ -  
\- _Where’s your gun? Can you bring me some toes from the morgue? John?_ -

John shook his head and answered.

\- **_I’m at work, Sherlock. And I’m here because I love it to be a doctor, and that’s where doctors work. Keep your bloody hands from my gun. And no, Mr. Holmes! You have two feet, you aren’t paraplegic, so you can walk on your own. ‘Then you aren’t bored anymore._** -

\- _But I’m not dressed, John. And you’re a few meters away from the morgue._ –  
\- _John?_ -  
\- _Why aren’t you answering me?_ -  
\- _Jawwwn!_ -  
\- _I could do some experiments, dangerous things._ -  
\- _I’ve found your gun, Jawn!_ -

John grumbled and fished the phone out of his pocket again, he opened the messages and read them. He pulled a face; he was grumpy, not because Sherlock had texted him, but because of the amount of the messages. He really liked to text with Sherlock, but it was annoying, that he spammed him immediately, when he didn’t answer after ten seconds.  
He wrote back.

\- **_Bloody hell Sherlock! I’m. At. Work. And maybe I would answer you, if you wouldn’t write every 10 sec.! Just go to bed, Sherlock. Or watch telly, or go for a walk, or go the morgue – with a sheet or your pajama – I don’t care! Or read something or play your violin. I think, you will find something to do. And don’t write my name like that, you just want to make me grumpy!_** –

He didn’t get a text back. Probably Sherlock was sulking now, on the sofa, in his dressing gown.

Half an hour later, he has finished the letter for the patient, or to be precise for the doctor of the patient. He went to the lunchroom, took a mug and filled it with coffee and milk. Mary, a nurse, who was working with him, had brought some sandwiches for them all tonight. He sat down with his coffee, pulled out his phone and grabbed one of the sandwiches. He bit into it and opened the dating app.

Since a few months, he had a profile on that dating website. Mary had mentioned it, and after a few discussions, he had set up a profile. He had been frustrated the last few months, to be honest the last few years. Since he was back from Afghanistan, he hadn’t managed it to get a girlfriend properly. It wasn’t just Sherlock, with his spoiling deductions and texts; it were the girls as well, it never seemed to be right, it never felt like home. The good thing was, he was bisexual, so he had decided to set up that profile and didn’t look for a special gender. Since he was back, he hadn’t had a male date, because he had had a lot of male dates during his army time, and he had thought, that he would need a bit female presence.  
Nobody had texted him, because on his profile, wasn’t a picture, no name, no age, no job – just a little information about things he liked.  
But then, in the New Year’s night, someone had texted him. Just a statement about a fact. John had been curious and so he had written back, and then they had chatted.  
And since then, they had emailed each other every day – for fourteen days now.  
Mostly something unimportant about the day, but the words and how that bloke wrote to him, made him smile and grin and laugh, every time. Every day, he was totally excited about a new message.

His heart beat a bit faster and he smiled broadly when he saw the new message.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: MisterBee**  
 **To: GrumpyTintin**  
 **11.43 pm**

\- Hello Tintin,  
I’m sorry, that it took me that long today. I was a bit too busy, and I didn’t want to write a fast, silly mail to you. So I do it now, properly. I hope your headaches are away. I’m sorry to hear, that there is such a noise in front of your house. It’s the same here, roadworks. It’s absolutely annoying, I thought about a multiple murder, if they aren’t finished with it at the end of the week. Now you know it, so you have the choice to become my crime partner, or one of the victims, ;-D.  
Yesterday was great, some work, some free time, and an annoying person in the supermarket, or to be precise, a very weird and disgusting woman. We had a “little” fight. She was the cashier.  
I wanted to buy some bread buns. I packed them into one of these transparent bags, went to the check out and there she was. A scruffy and blowsy woman, she really looked like she would only shower for Christmas dinner. She asked me, how many buns would be in my bag and I told her, but she controlled it. With her fingers in my bag! She touched every bun, with her dirty fingers. And then she was annoyed and grumpy because I didn’t want to pay; and she complained because I told her, that her fingers would be dirty. (Which is just a fact, because she touched a lot of money.) By the way, I got new buns from the manager, and she got in trouble with her boss, which made me really happy.  
Hope your day was great.  
Greetings  
MisterB. -  
\----------------------------------------

John laughed while he read the mail. He had taken a sip of the coffee, but had needed to spill it back, the story was too funny, and he hadn’t managed to swallow the coffee properly.  
He wanted to reply, but a green ball with a hook, told him, that the man was online.  
He went to the chat box.

\----------------------------------------  
**GTT [3.43 am]:** Buzzbuzz, you’re awake, like me, so I thought, I say hello. And I don’t want to be your victim. ;-)  
**MB:** Oh, the grumpy reporter is awake. That’s great. :-). So, then you’re my crime partner, if I murder them.  
**GTT:** Deal with the crime partner. And you’re a busy bee, or why are you awake? :-). By the way, if I’m not answering, then I’m working. At the moment, I just make a break.  
**MB:** Alright. Why do you have to work at almost 4 am? And no, I’m not a busy bee, I’m a lazy bee, but I can’t fall asleep, the reporter hasn’t said good night.  
**GTT:** We didn’t want to talk in detail, Buzzbuzz. Awww, that’s cute. So close your eyes and imagine, me saying good night to you, with a little pat on your head.  
**MB:** Please say good night later, now I would like to talk with you – but the pat is great, I like that. And you’re right, but, you seem to need to work at night.  
**GTT:** Yeah, I can work at every time; morning, mid-day, afternoon and night, and I can work at home, in the city I live or somewhere else. ;-).  
**MB:** That means we have something in common. It’s absolutely the same for me.  
**GTT:** So what’s your favourite and are you travelling a lot?  
**MB:** I don’t have one, I really like to work and I love my job, so it doesn’t matter to me. Sometimes I travel a lot. There was a time, when I travelled a lot – and far away. And in more than 2 years I wasn’t at home, to be honest, that was a bit too much travelling. You’re going to miss some people very much. And you?  
\----------------------------------------

John had eaten his sandwich during texting with the man who loved bees. He had drunk his coffee and then someone had called him – a patient for him.  
He had put the phone back into his trouser pocket. He would answer later, maybe the guy would be awake, and if not, he would write him a mail.

\---------------------------------------  
**GTT [5.02 am]:** Jesus, you’re still awake. Go to bed, the reporter had said good night. ;-). Sorry, that I was away that long, but I needed to work a bit. To your question - normally I prefer to sleep at night, but as you say, I love my job, I love what I do and what I am able to do in my life, so in a way I really don’t care about the daytime. I love to travel, but I love it more to travel for pleasure, than for business.  
**MB:** The pat was not enough ;-). And you’re awake too, so I just join you and suffer with you.  
**GTT:** You make me blush, stop that. :-D Don’t be such a cutie. I will suffer even more, because I’m at work and you’re not here.  
**MB:** Maybe I will stop. Oh, no. I thought about it, I won’t stop. Sorry. ;-)  
**GTT:** I’m glad you won’t stop :-)... Your mail was pretty funny, by the way. And disgusting, as well. And you’re right, it was very awful – but on the other hand, I had laughed very hard, I needed to spill my coffee back into my mug.  
**MB:** I really couldn’t believe my eyes – but I’m glad that I was able to make you laugh. Did you drink your coffee?  
**GTT:** You make me smile, and grin and laugh, every time. And yes, I did, it was just my spit. :-D. I really would love to stay, but I should work a bit.  
**MB:** It’s okay, Tintin. It was nice to chat again. When you’re at home – sleep well.  
**GTT:** Thanks. Good night Buzzbuzz. Sleep well and imagine a pat and kiss on your hair. :-)  
**MB:** The perfect good night. :-)  
**GTT:** :-)  
_GrumpyTintin is offline._  
\----------------------------------------

John put his phone back into his trouser pocket. He would have loved to stay in the chat, but he needed to work and the battery had been very low.  
He walked back to the reception.  
A few minutes later, a new patient entered the A&E, someone for John. He was glad to have something to do, or to be precise, to have more to do than just sitting around and typing doctor reports.  
It was just a small cut at the forehead. He fixed it and went back to the reception with him; where he filled out a document and sick report. He signed both documents and raised his head again.  
Next to the young men, stood a familiar person.  
Sherlock.

John looked surprised and blinked a few times. He turned his head to the patient and gave him the notes.  
“If you feel worse or you feel sick and you vomit, then feel free to come back or go to your family doctor, Mr. Norton.”  
“Thank you Dr. Watson.”  
“You’re welcome.” John nodded and smiled.  
The patient left and John turned his head to Sherlock again.

The consulting detective was standing in front of the reception, with his Belstaff coat, his blue scarf and his curly, black hair.  
He smiled at John, and put down a cup and a little bag, both from a bakery next to the clinic, which opens every day at 5 o’clock in the morning.  
John looked at the things, slipped out of his medical coat and looked up to Sherlock again. He bowed his head, was standing behind the counter, with just a white polo shirt and his white trousers.  
“Sherlock... ” He said with a surprised voice.  
“Morning John.” Sherlock smiled.  
“I thought you were sulking. What’s that?” He pointed at the cup and the bag.  
“No, I wasn’t sulking, you just complained about the amount of my texts and I didn’t want to make you angry, so I just lay around, and then I went to the morgue, but they hadn’t toes for me. And that’s black tea with one sugar and a bit of milk, and a sandwich with tomatoes and mozzarella.” Sherlock said.  
“What?” John asked, and looked confused.  
“You complained, that’s why I... ”  
“Yeah, yeah, I get that. Why are you buying me a tea and a sandwich? Is it drugged?”

Sherlock’s good mood disappeared a bit. Okay, John was right, sometimes he drugged him; but it was annoying that John always judged him immediately, as soon as he did something nice. That was another reason for that online profile. Nobody judged him, and that Tintin guy, had really liked it, that he had stayed awake to entertain him during his work.  
“No! I just thought, I fetch you up, because it’s almost 6 o’clock. It’s morning, you’re probably hungry and you like tea in the morning, so I bought it.”  
John blinked a few times and scratched the back of his head.  
“Well, sorry. Um. Thank you. Can you wait outdoors for me, I just need to write something and I need a quick change. I’m with you in a few minutes.”  
“Yes. I’ll wait for you.” Sherlock said, and took the cup and the bag with the sandwich.

John looked after him and sat down again.  
He was surprised by Sherlock’s gesture.  
After he had typed a few things, he went to the dressing room and changed into his jeans, his T-shirt and in one of his jumpers. He slipped into his shoes and into his jacket. And now he felt flattered by Sherlock’s gesture. It was the first time, that Sherlock fetched him up after work, and on top of that, he had bought him tea and a sandwich. In a way - it was lovely.

He left the A&E and walked through the lobby to Sherlock.  
He beamed at Sherlock and grabbed the tea cup out of his hand.  
“I could get used to it. You fetching me up after work, with a cup of tea and a sandwich or a piece of cake.” John smiled, and grabbed Sherlock’s coat with the free hand and pulled him to the exit. “Sorry, Sherlock, yeah? I was just a bit surprised. It’s nice, thank you very much.”  
Sherlock stumbled a bit with the sandwich in his hand.  
“Um, It’s fine. You’re welcome, but I won’t fetch you up every day. I was just bored.”  
“Of course Sherlock, I wouldn’t have believed you, if you would have said, that you like me and that you just wanted to fetch up your best friend and make his day.” John said with a wink.  
“Such a nonsense, Dr. Watson. Sentiment.” Sherlock said, and before he could think twice about it, he winked as well.

They looked at each other and chuckled.


	3. Alone at 221B Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's alone at home, while John is on a medical fair and training.
> 
> And MisterBee is able to chat a bit with GrumpyTintin.

**\- Monday, January/25 - 2016, afternoon, London, 221B Baker Street, sofa -**

This week would get boring and dull, if Lestrade wouldn’t come up with a case, or if no clients would come up with a case. Sherlock preferred the Lestrade cases, John wasn’t here the whole week, and he wasn’t good at speaking with clients. He made rude deductions and they left Baker Street.  
John was in Wales, in Cardiff, at a medical staff training and a medical fair, the whole week.  
He had taken the train yesterday and would come back on Friday night.  
A whole week without John. It was boring without John, but at least he had the lovely mails from his very nice and funny dating website fellow.  
Actually, they had written every day since New Year’s day and Sherlock had enjoyed every mail, every chat; although they just had chatted twice. He liked that bloke very much.  
He was nice, funny, smart and in a way really cute, in the context of his writing and the things he said. And he didn’t care about a name, a look, the age, or a job.  
They just talked about the day in general; about funny little stories; about books, music, countries, things they like.

Sherlock laid on the sofa, his legs were stretched out. He took his phone and opened the dating app. Nobody, apart from Tintin, had written to him; probably they all didn’t like it, that there was no picture or further information about him.  
His eyes beamed to the mailbox.  
1 new message.  
His heart raced against his rib cage, his stomach tingled a bit, and a broad smile appeared on his face, immediately.  
He opened the message with a euphoric tap with his forefinger.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: GrumpyTintin**  
**To: MisterBee**  
**12.34 pm**

\- Hello lazy bee ;-)  
It’s not fair that you don’t have to work, and I’ve to work. Could you please be so kind and pretend that you suffer with me?  
Probably, in truth, I’m the lazy one, every day I complain about working, but I’m saying that I love my job. I really do, but what I love more than my job is food, laying around and just enjoying my life, with people I love/like.  
I can’t believe that you never cheated in school. So there are a few options; you’re just kidding and in truth you’ve cheated every time; or you’re a coward, and didn’t want to risk getting caught; or you’re just very smart, and there was no need to cheat, because you’re a cute nerd.  
Now, I’m feeling like a bad boy, now you know, I’m a nasty cheater. :-D You need to cheer me up, Mister.  
Hope your day was great and awesome.  
I’m looking forward to your mail, and I would love to chat with you again.  
Greetings  
AtTheMomentNotGrumpyTintin.  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock grinned like mad. Every mail of this bloke made him just happy, truly happy. He could just be the Sherlock he wanted to be, he could just show all his emotions and feelings, whether good or bad ones, and that guy didn’t judge him. It was easier to talk about that stuff online, just texting; to speak about it was a different thing, for example with John. He couldn’t manage it, to tell him, that he really loved him as a friend and that he appreciated him, and that he really enjoys his presence, and all that stuff he liked about John.  
And he knew, John would like to hear it, although that John knew in some way that he liked him.

When he was almost done with his reply, his eye caught the online button.  
His eyes beamed again, chatting with him would cheer him up, from the fact, that John hadn’t answered the whole afternoon.  
He opened the chat with an excited tap.

\----------------------------------------  
**GTT:** First one! :-D  
**MB:** The bad boy... have you cheated again? ;-)  
**GTT:** Hey, I told you to cheer me up. :-(  
**MB:** Aww, what do you need?  
**GTT:** You have 3 guesses.  
**MB:** 1\. A hug - 2. A kiss on the cheek - 3. I like you whether you’re a bad boy or a good boy.  
**GTT:** These were 3 guesses at once, but all were awesome. :-). Especially your kiss.  
**MB:** Are you flirting with me? ;-)  
**GTT:** Since day one. ;-). Send you a hug and a kiss back.  
**MB:** I appreciate that. :-). Thanks for the hug and the kiss, I’m feeling a bit lonely today. But now you’re here, that’s great. Which of your options in your mail would you prefer?  
**GTT:** Aww, I will cheer you up as much as I can. You were lucky, I just wanted to look if you had written, I was about logging out. And I would prefer the smart option. ;-) I like smart guys, so are you a smart and clever guy?  
**MB:** Now you’re lucky... I am, indeed, a smart and clever guy.  
**GTT:** I’m grinning right now.  
**GTT: sent a picture**  
\----------------------------------------

The picture loaded and then, Sherlock could see some trainers, a bit of tanned skin and a lot of a path. One could see that the sun was shining.

He wanted to write back, when Mrs. Hudson appeared with some bags.  
“Sherlock.” She smiled. “You look so happy, has John texted you?” She asked and went to the kitchen.  
“No, he hasn’t!” Sherlock stated.  
“... the mess you made... “ It was just a low mumble. “Have you phoned with him? You’re smiling so much.”  
“No! Sometimes I just smile!” He yelled into the kitchen. And then he turned around, faced the back of the sofa and the wall, and wrapped his dressing gown around him.  
“Have you two a little domestic?” She asked.  
But Sherlock just pretended to be alone. Now he was sulking again, because she had reminded him that John hadn’t written the whole day.  
He just heard a low hum and after that the creaking stairs.

\---------------------------------------  
**GTT:** I hope, I can cheer you up with a bit of sunlight.  
**MB:** Sorry, someone visits me. And your picture cheered me up. It’s raining, where I am. And your trainers are nice. It’s winter, why are you wearing shorts? Aren’t you in the UK?  
**GTT:** I’m in the UK, but where I am the sun is shining. I wear a sweater. I had been running. But the question is, who was visiting you?  
**MB:** Jealous? ;-). I answer that later. So we knew, we’re both in the UK, do we want to specify that. Maybe which part of the UK?  
**GTT:** Okay, yeah, the part is fine with me. I’m from England. And yes, I’m jealous. :-/  
**MB:** Fantastic, I’m from England, too. And you don’t have to be jealous, it had been just a woman, who is much older than I am.  
**GTT:** Great, so you just fancy men, that’s good. The woman is okay, I’m not jealous anymore. Old woman? Your mother?  
**MB:** Sort of. And yes, just men, so no need to get jealous. You sent me a picture... wait a moment, I will send you one as well.  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock turned around again. He stood up, walked across the table, closed the door. He didn’t want more visitors today, with dull questions or conversations about John. As much as he enjoyed the chatting with that ‘not’-grumpy bloke, deep down, he really missed John, and he would love to hear from him.  
He ran his hand through his curls and went back to the sofa; he sat down, picked up the book he had read and sent the picture to that lovely bloke.

\----------------------------------------  
**MB: sent a picture**  
**GTT:** Oh, that’s great, Charles Dickens, have you read it today? Your thumb is nice. ;-)  
**MB:** Thanks :-D. Yes, I’ve read it. Do you like Charles Dickens?  
**GTT:** Yes, I like him. As a kid, I really loved the books, especially Oliver Twist and The Christmas Carol, and the one you read right now – David Copperfield.  
**MB:** The Christmas Carol is a great one, I have all the books, the original edit.  
**GTT:** Like I have all the original edits from Tintin, apart from one: The Secret of the Unicorn’, can’t find it. So you could have used the names Scrooge or MisterDickens.  
**MB:** I was drunk when I set up the profile, and the word bee was the first thing that came to my mind.  
**GTT:** :-D I’m happy with MisterBee; it sounds more... fluffy and cute. I’m glad you overlook my name. I set up the profile, because a friend meant it would be a good idea. I should thank her; I met you.  
**MB:** One day, we will meet and then I will thank her too. :-). And you’re not grumpy ;-). This time I need to leave the conversation. My free days are over, I need to go to work. I’m sorry. Enjoy your day.  
**GTT:** Don’t leave me! :-(... What a shame, I would have loved to chat with you the whole evening and night. But I hope, you have fun at work. It was great, as always, Buzzbuzz.  
**MB:** I will always come back. :-)... I hope it’s fun too. And I hope we have more time to chat the next time. Go and get a shower, you sweaty running reporter. ;-)  
**GTT:** That would be more fun with you (And no! I haven’t written that down :-D)  
**MB:** No, you haven’t. ;-) Can’t see what you mean,... I would prefer the shower with you (don’t be ridiculous, I haven’t written that down. ;-) ) Bye, Tintin.  
**GTT:** ;-) bye, lovely bee.  
_MisterBee is offline._  
\----------------------------------------

It was the truth, he couldn’t believe it, but it was the truth, he would prefer a shower with that lovely guy, instead of that triple murder, Lestrade had texted him.  
He walked over the coffee table, across the flat, to his bedroom and changed his clothes.  
Half an hour later, he sat in a cab and was on his way to the crime scene, to be precise, he was almost there.  
His phone buzzed, he pulled it out of his coat and bowed the head. He had expected Lestrade.  
John. It was John. Unbelievable, that his small blogger had found time to text him.  
He opened the message.

**_\- I’m so sorry Sherlock. I know a few hours have passed since you've texted me. I hope you aren’t sulking. I was busy during the medical training and after that I just needed some fresh air. Are you still bored? If yes, you could call me... or I don’t know. I just wanted to say, I’ve free time. -_ **

Instead of just texting him during his stroll or whatever John had done, John had let him rot in his boredom – Sherlock thought.  
Sherlock pulled a face and answered him.  
That was the first text since a few hours. He hadn’t spammed him this time, because of John’s reactions during his lasts texts in the last three days. John had answered him properly, when he hadn’t spammed him. Of course, he had sulked after every message and during the hiatus, but after a few minutes or a few hours of waiting, John had answered him nicely and properly. And the online dating guy had meant, that he would get annoyed, if someone would spammed him with messages, and that he wouldn’t be in the mood to text back anymore, even if it would be a person he truly loved or liked.

Sherlock texted back.

_\- You have let me rot in my boredom, now I’m dead; cause of death: boredom. -_

- _ **I don’t like that, Sherlock! Don’t use dead, death or similar words in the context of you. I will kill you when you die for real, and you don’t want to get murdered by me. Do you want to Skype or Facetime? Is there no case, no clients, no experiment, you could work on?** _ -

\- _Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude. I’m not bored anymore, Lestrade texted. I’m on my way to a triple murder. But my blogger and doctor is lost in Cardiff on a dull medical fair and a training. -_

\- _**My consulting detective can profit from the training as well, because his doctor will be smarter and cleverer, when he’s back home on Friday. When you have solved the murder in one hour, I would love to know who it was, genius. ;-) So please text me, I will send you my admiration.**_ -

Sherlock needed to grin.

- _I will send you a massage in half an hour. ;-_ ) -

\- _**Jesus, you sent me a winking smiley. I’m flattered ;-). I’m sorry that I didn’t text you earlier. I’m not here for a vacation, Sherlock, please don’t sulk or be mad with me, when I’m not texting immediately. Go and catch the murderer, you showing-off genius. And don’t be rude to Anderson, and the name’s Greg.**_ -

\- _I’m at the crime scene now, I will try to behave myself without you, I think the man, who you call Greg, will send you a text if I don’t behave. Don’t flirt with every woman, I’m not with you, to warn you with my deductions._ -

Sherlock got out of the cab and put his phone into his coat again.

Lestrade waved at him and when he walked to him, Sally watched him with her annoying face.  
He wasn’t as satisfied as he thought he would be about the triple murder.  
The first thing was, his blogger, doctor, colleague – his best friend wasn’t with him; and he wasn’t at home to solve the murder with him.  
The second thing was, he would have loved to chat with that Tintin man, he would have loved to talk with him, to flirt with him, to make him smile.  
They didn’t meet often in the chat, and this time he had needed to go.


	4. Carry me home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is on his way back from Cardiff.  
> He's happy during the ride, at the train station, and at home - but after a little advice, he felt really bad.

**\- Friday, January/29 - 2016, London, King’s Cross Station, platform 8/ 221b Baker Street, living room -**

John was sitting on the train home from Cardiff to London. A few minutes ago, he had chatted with his online date, about James Bond. That guy had seen some of the movies, but not all. They had discussed about James Bond and some other action movies. MisterBee didn’t watch much television, and his opinion about James Bond wasn’t what John had hoped for. But the texting had been funny and nice as always.  
They had needed to stop their texts, because of John’s low battery.

John was grumpy about his battery.  
Every time he was texting or emailing with that guy, he felt really good and happy. If he was grumpy, angry, sad or disappointed - with every email or text, the guy cheered him up, immediately.  
If John was honest with himself, he was slowly falling in love with that guy.

The train rolled slowly into the train station, it was almost 10 o'clock in the evening and John was looking forward to Baker Street, a nice cup of tea and Sherlock.  
Sometimes, Sherlock was able to make him angry and grumpy as hell, but every time Sherlock was away, or he himself was away, he missed Sherlock badly.  
He had never had such a close and deep friendship with someone else. And he was glad to be Sherlock’s best friend. It was a huge compliment.

John grabbed his bags and went to one of the doors. He waited with some other passengers. A woman, a family and an old man got out of the train beforehand. John took the steps and shouldered his bags again. His hand ran through his almost grey hair. He faced the exit and walked towards it.

“John!” A male voice was screaming.  
John wrinkled his forehead.  
“John!” A deep male voice screamed.  
John turned around, he scanned the platform, and then he dropped down his two bags.

At some distance, he saw a man, with dark curly hair, a dark coat and a blue scarf.  
The man walked towards him.  
John’s mouth hung open.  
Sherlock.  
And as Sherlock stood in front of him and smiled a relaxed and truthful smile, John felt the same cheering up feeling, he felt during the texts with MisterBee.  
Sherlock had fetched him up again.

John looked up to Sherlock.  
“Hey... ” He smiled.  
“Hey John.” Sherlock smiled as well.  
John smiled and rubbed his neck.  
“Just bored.” Sherlock stated.  
John bowed his head.  
“Bored... like bored?” John asked. “Or bored... like, I missed you and thought you would like it, if I fetch you up?”  
Sherlock bowed his head as well, he bent down, took one of John’s bags and made a step towards the exit.  
“Are you coming, John?” He smiled broadly.  
John blinked a few times and took the other bag, he turned to Sherlock and followed him through the amount of people.  
“I missed you, too.” John said, when he was next to Sherlock.

They faced each other; their walking became slower and they locked their eyes with a soft smile. Blue, warm eyes beamed into two piercing green-silver eyes.  
They held their gaze, while they were walking.  
John licked his lips unconsciously.

And then he walked right into a trolley.  
They broke their eye contact. John looked confused, rubbed his tummy and turned his head to the owner of the trolley.  
The woman smiled.  
“Are you alright?”  
“Yeah... yeah, sorry. Um, I didn’t watch my way. Sorry.” He muttered, smiled at her and shouldered his bag again.  
The woman smiled and nodded.

John looked to Sherlock, he scratched the back of head and smiled a bit.  
Sherlock seemed to be as confused and irritated as John.

They walked out of the King’s Cross Station, without looking at each other again, and without saying a word.  
They hired a cab outdoors, which drove them silently to 221B Baker Street.

 

In the meantime, Sherlock and John sat in their armchairs, in front of the crackling fireplace. John had pulled out his jumper and his socks, he was just sitting with a black T-Shirt and some jeans comfortably in his armchair, a cup of tea in his hands.  
Sherlock sat loosely in his armchair, with his black trousers, a white shirt and with no socks.  
John looked into the fireplace and yawned.  
“John? Would you use an online dating website to... you know search someone?” Sherlock asked out of the blue.

John’s heart pounded like mad against his rib cage. Had Sherlock sneaked around? No, his laptop and his phone had been with him in Cardiff.  
He turned his head to Sherlock.  
“What?! Why are you asking me that?”  
“I was just wondering. And you haven’t had a date since the new year.” Sherlock said, and looked at him.  
“Well, I was just not searching for a date.” John said. “Do you want, that I’ve a date? I mean, you spoil it every time.” John smiled.  
“I just warn you before you waste your time.” Sherlock said.  
“Then would you be so kind and search someone for me? Someone you think would fit.” John grinned.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
“I have other things to do than chasing around London and deduce woman.”  
John laughed.  
“Oh come on, Sherlock. How often do you write me, that you’re bored? Use the time and search someone for me.”  
“I’m better at sulking.” Sherlock grinned with John. “You could search for your own, why aren’t you searching?”  
“Maybe I’m tired of searching, maybe it would be great to be found.”  
“What kind of phrase is that?”

“Sherlock, I just didn’t want to search explicit for someone, I just want that... you know, that it just happened without searching. You know, um... I would love to have more than just a dull relationship.” John said. “I’m not mad with you, that you spoiled every date, or scared of every woman in the last few years; in a way I’m glad. I mean, you’re my best friend, and I would love to have someone at my side, who didn’t spoil days with my best friend or who’s upset with me, because I like to spend a bit of my lifetime with you. Not one woman could accept that. But to be honest,... I would love to have a family.” John admitted. “You know,... a relationship, that felt like home. Just my own family. I mean, it’s not about marriage or children, just a relationship with someone, who makes me smile, and grin and laugh, who cheer me up and comfort me; someone, who gave me the feeling I’m at home, no matter where we are.”

Sherlock bowed his head. He hadn’t noticed that John hadn’t answered his question about the online dating.  
“That’s what you want to have in life?”  
It was exactly what Sherlock was truly searching for. But the fear about getting deeply hurt again, was too big, and that’s why it was easier to bury his feelings deep down in his heart; protecting his heart in real life, just open it hugely for a man on an online website.  
John nodded.  
“Yes. That’s what I want, Sherlock. “ He looked to the crackling fire again.

A more than a ten minutes silence fell over 221B Baker Street.  
John sipped his tea, while he was watching the fire.  
Sherlock just stared into the fire.

John turned his head to Sherlock again.  
“Do you not want something like that in your life?... Love.” John asked with a warm voice.  
Sherlock turned his head to him - slowly.  
“Maybe, I would like to have love in my life.”  
“Maybe?” John asked.  
“Look. Not to fall in love means: no relationship, what means not getting hurt, which means happiness.” Sherlock stated.  
John wrinkled his forehead.  
“What?! That’s not logical. If you would like to have love in your life and you just choose the way not to fall in love, then you are not getting hurt, but you hurt yourself, and you betray yourself and you’re also not happy, because you don’t have what you want. So it is: Choose to not fall in love means, no relationship, what means rejecting what you want, which means pretending, which means not getting hurt, but betraying yourself, which means you hurt yourself, which means no happiness.” John said. “You know,... avoiding unhappiness is not the way to happiness.” John said softly and warmly.

John needed to look up, immediately.  
Sherlock had been jumped out of his armchair.  
“It’s a dull and silly phrase!” Sherlock stated.  
John raised his eyebrows.  
“Conversation is over?” He asked gently.  
Sherlock panted with rage. He didn’t say a word and walked to his room. The door flew loudly into the lock.  
“Yeah... the conversation is over.” John mumbled to himself.

He hadn’t it meant like that, he didn’t want to judge Sherlock or to be rude. He had just wanted to show him, what he ”maybe” was doing to himself. It had been just an advice from a best friend, who truly cared.  
Unconsciously, he had hit a very weak point of Sherlock. He had pushed Sherlock into his mind palace room, where he hid the true very emotionally Sherlock. And he had locked Sherlock into this room.

Sherlock was lying in his bed, rolled up into a ball, into a fetus position; he was sulking. John was more than right and now he was locked in that room in his mind palace and was thinking about himself, and that was something he avoided as often as possible. That room made him really sad about his life. He didn’t like that room, and with cases and other riddles and mind games, he was able to stay away from this room, but boredom pulled him to that room like a magnet.  
And these truthful words from John had beamed him into this room.

John stood up, walked to the kitchen and put his empty cup into the sink.  
He went to Sherlock’s bedroom, laid his hand slowly, silently and carefully at the wooden door. He took a deep breath.  
“I’m sorry Sherlock.” He said with a warm voice. “Sleep well my friend.” His voice stayed warm and open hearted.  
He patted the door twice and turned around.

His way led him upstairs; in his room, he changed into a fresh T-shirt and a boxer shorts.  
He felt bad and laid down; cuddled under his blanket and pulled his phone to him.  
John opened the dating app. He needed something to feel better.  
He opened the message box and wrote a message.

 

\----------------------------------------  
**From: GrumpyTintin**  
**To: MisterBee**  
**12.21 am**

\- Lovely bee,... I just wanted to say good night. Maybe you already sleep, but maybe you like it anyway. Sleep well, lazy bee.  
I send you a pat and kiss on your hair.  
Hugs,  
TiredTintin :-) -  
\----------------------------------------

John closed the app, he sighed and turned to his side.

 

Sherlock was still lying in his bed, he had opened the app, he had needed something that cheered him up.  
There had been a mail, a mail from his adventurous reporter.  
He felt a warm feeling spreading from his heart into every vein and fibre of his body.

But the e-mail hadn’t been the only thing, that had cheered him up, that had pulled him out of that horrible mind palace room.  
It was the combination of that just-saying-good-night-mail from a person he truly fancied; and the warm words, the warm apology, the warm good night from a person he truly liked - his best friend.

He sent a message back.

 

And before John and Sherlock drifted into a peaceful sleep; John felt the same warm feeling that spread from his heart into every vein and fibre of his body, when he read his good night message.

\----------------------------------------

**From: MisterBee**   
**To: GrumpyTintin**   
**12:24 am**

\- Hey, tired fellow – thanks for your lovely good night. I could get used to it.  
Good night Tintin, sleep well and lovely dreams for you.  
I send you a hand, that runs through your hair, and a kiss on your temple.  
Hugs back,  
MisterTiredSmilingBee :-) -  
\----------------------------------------


	5. Our Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock isn't listening, but with that, he learns a new thing that's important for a friendship - especially for his friendship with John.
> 
> And MisterBee is telling some childhood stories, as well as he is reading GrumpyTintin's childhood stories.

**\- Wednesday, February/10 - 2016, morning, London, 221B Baker Street, kitchen -**

It was a quiet morning, and a lazy morning. In the last two days, Sherlock and John had been busy with a case, which had seemed dull at first, but in the end, it had been a very exciting case, with a chase through old London, a few tense moments, and a rescuing Dr. John Hamish Watson.  
John had been mad with Sherlock afterwards, but Sherlock couldn’t understand that; they had had a lot of fun, and at the end they had solved the crime and all was fine.  
When they had arrived at 221B Baker Street late at night, John had been deathly exhausted, and this morning he hadn't looked a bit better, than last night.  
Normally, John was not very chatty in the morning, especially when he was exhausted and tired, but today he had been very chatty. He had been grumpy, but Sherlock hadn’t listened to all the things John had yelled and murmured. He had just said goodbye, when John had said, that he would go to work now.

That was an hour ago.  
And Sherlock was still sitting at the table in front of his microscope. He wanted to do a few experiments today.  
In the test tube next to him bubbled a foul-smelling and evil-looking substance, and under his microscope lay a piece of skin, not to forget the eyeballs, which were almost boiling in the microwave.

He sat up straight, ran his fingers through his black, soft curls and fished his phone out of a staple with newspapers. He circled his shoulders and opened the dating app.  
And he saw what he has wanted to see. A new message from his Tintin guy.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: GrumpyTintin**  
**To: MisterBee**  
**7.58 am**

\- Morning my dear bee,  
So, you loved to play pirates? I want to hear more about that in your next mail, Captain Bee. Have you plundered a village last night? ;-)  
I didn’t play pirates as a child, but I played knights a lot. You know, it’s almost the same, sword fighting, just not on the water. ;-) I’ve played that a lot with my friends on the playground with sticks. One day a friend of mine, was a bit too excited and punched me with his stick – into my face. That was my first black eye. But my parents were used to injuries as I was little. I was a cheeky devil, always on full speed; running, climbing, jumping, fighting. So my parents were used to bruises. And then I played sports during my whole school time – more bruises and more grazes. :-)  
Hope your ship is ready, Captain.  
Love,  
AlmostWorkingTintin. -  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock smiled and grinned while he was reading the mail.  
So, he was a knight and a cheeky devil, always on the run. He was sure, he would have had a lot of fun with that bloke in his childhood.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: MisterBee**  
**To: GrumpyTintin**  
**8.35 am**

\- Good morning cheeky devil, ;-)  
Are you still a cheeky devil and an adventurous guy? Or are you just going to work, and travel for fun to cozy beaches?  
And yes, my ship is always ready to go. The sails are set, cheeky knight.

I haven’t had a lot of friends, to be honest; I wouldn’t call them friends, they were just playmates on the playground, nothing more. I’ve rather played with my brother, than with other people. And he was a good playmate. I would have loved to play pirates with him the whole day, every day of the week, but he didn’t want to play pirates all the time. But my dog, was willing to play it with me all day long.  
And when I was tired of playing pirates, I read a lot, bees and stuff I was interested in. I read a lot, as soon as I stopped playing with my brother, as soon as I stopped playing my instrument, and as soon as I was home from school - I read. Or during the night; sometimes my brother caught me, and then we read together.

So, did you have a knight name? And what sport did you do at school?

Love,  
MisterWorkingAtHomeTodayBee  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock put the phone aside, when this guy was working, it would take him a while to answer his mail.  
It wasn’t bad, he was busy with his experiments anyway.  
He stood up and went to the microwave.

 

It was midday, when he took his phone again.  
There was a message from John. He wrinkled his forehead, but smiled. He was excited, if it was another sermon or something good.

_**\- I know you didn’t listen in the morning, which is very rude, by the way. I’m still mad, but I think you have already deduced that. Anyway, one thing I said this morning, was a question. You didn’t answer, so here it is again. Do you fancy takeaway tonight? Indian? -** _

_\- Yes, Indian takeaway sounds good. You can tell me the other things when you’re at home. I’m busy with my experiments. See you later, John. -_

After his reply he opened the dating app, his mailbox and the reply from his date.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: GrumpyTintin**  
**To: MisterBee**  
**12.30 pm**

\- Hey Captain Bookworm,  
So, you have a brother? An older one or a younger brother?  
I have a sister, she’s older than me, but we weren’t as close as you with your brother. She had her friends, I had my friends, and the only time we really played with each other, was during vacations. I mean, I love her, but we’re not really close.

Oh, a dog. I would have loved to have a pet. But my father didn’t want to have one, my sister wanted a dog, I wanted a cat, and my mother didn’t want a cat or a dog. We could choose between a bird, fishes or a rabbit. My sister was mad with my parents, and so we get no pet at all.

I played rugby, I really loved it; it was fun, I was good at it, our whole team was really good and it was a really great thing to spend my time with. We won a few medals and school trophies. (I need to show off a bit, now I’m an old grandpa, and not as fit as in my younger years. :-D) – note to myself: doing more sport.  
Did you play something at school, or were you in a club or something like that?

I can’t tell you my knight name, my name is in it. I’m sorry. It was: Knight Cheeky-my name. :-)  
What about you, Captain?

Love,  
LunchTintin -  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock answered immediately.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: MisterBee**  
**To: GrumpyTintin**  
**13.01 pm**

\- My dear knight,  
It’s the same with me, I can’t tell you my pirate name, it would reveal too much, it’s my name, or to be precise, one of my names (only my brother was allowed to use that name) and a defining feature of my appearance.  
And well, the relationship between me and my brother isn’t that close anymore. We broke apart years ago. I don’t know why, but I’m upset with him and I think he’s upset with me too. And in some way he really annoys me. And the more time passed, the harder it become to talk about all that - to start from the beginning. If I’m honest, I miss him (although he’s in my near) and his nickname for me.  
Oh, and he’s older than me.

My parents weren’t at home very often and so I got the dog I wanted. But he died before I left for university. Now, I’m living in a flat,... I would love to have a dog, but, well, a flat in a city isn’t the greatest place for a big dog. And I don’t know if I would move to a house in the countryside. I really love my flat and the persons, who are living with me in that house.

I did ballet in school. I really love to dance. I’m not doing ballet anymore, and I haven’t a partner do dance with.  
Rugby, fits for you. :-D – And I can imagine that you were pretty good at it. I would have loved to watch you playing rugby.

Love,  
MisterStillWorkingBee -  
\----------------------------------------

The rest of the day he worked at his experiments. There wasn’t another mail from his rugby guy, probably he was working and texting him afterwards.

John came home at 5.43 pm.  
He put the bags with the Indian takeaway on the kitchen counter.  
“Hey Sherlock,... Jesus, it’s smells awful, what is that?” John asked and pointed at the liquid in one of the test tubes. “Never mind, genius. Probably, I didn’t want to know, what you have mixed together. I’m in the shower, I’m back in a tick and then we can eat.” He patted Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock sat up straight after that touch. He looked to John, who left the kitchen. His heart pounded, it was the first time John had touched him there. He had patted his back or his arm or his shoulder, but never his hair.  
It had felt really good and nice.  
It was something he really liked, not that he had experienced it often in his life; but he had always loved it, if someone had patted his hair, stroked through his hair or played with his curls and strands.

“Welcome back, John. Thanks for the food.” He said a bit louder, so John would be able to hear it.  
“You’re welcome.” John yelled with a warm voice out of the bathroom.

Sherlock stood up, he took the food into the living room. As well as cutlery and two glasses of water. And in the end he sat up the fireplace and boiled some water for John’s tea.  
After that, he sat down in his chair and looked for a message. At the same time he could hear the creaking noise of the steps to the next floor, and to John’s bedroom.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: GrumpyTintin**  
**To: MisterBee**  
**5.58 pm**

\- You’re pretty busy today Captain Bee ;-),  
You’re right, a dog in a flat isn’t the best solution. I live in a flat too, and the persons in my house are nice as well, I really love them and I’m not sure if I could move out. I would miss them really much.  
And with your brother... you know, it’s never too late to talk with someone. It’s unfinished business, and it will be your whole life, if you didn’t talk with him. Maybe you make it worse, maybe you make it better, you never know, but you will know when you do it. So the chance that you’re happier afterwards, should be a motivation. You know, if you don’t talk with him, you will still miss him, if you talk with him and it didn’t work out, you will miss him too, but then you have tried your luck.

Ballet? Really? Wow, that’s great. I mean, you said, that you like dancing. I think you have been pretty good. God, I really would love to see you doing this, see you dance. I bet it’s hot to watch. We need to talk about that again.  
I can dance as well, but I bet not as good as you. And I don’t like it that much. But I think, I would do it for you and with you.  
And we need to talk about our childhood again as well, I would love to hear more. :-)

I’m at home now and hungry, I’ll text you good night later, pirate. :-)  
Love,  
HungryTintin. –  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock smiled at his phone. That guy was just lovely. He should think about the Mycroft-advice he had given him.  
And the rest of his text had been great as well. He was flattered by the fact, that this guy thought he would look hot during dancing. And he loved the fact, that he would dance with him, even that he didn’t like to dance that much.  
He hoped he would be able to dance with him some day.

“New case or why are you smiling?” John asked.  
Sherlock put the phone away.  
“Just smiling, no case. So what have you said to me that morning, when I wasn’t listening?” Sherlock asked.  
John sat down and looked at him. He took his food and pointed with the fork to Sherlock.  
“I won’t tell you, Sherlock. It was something about friendship. It’s not my problem when you aren’t listening to me. Maybe you will listen the next time. The conversation is over.” He said and changed the subject.“ How was your day?”  
Sherlocks lips were a tiny line, but he answered his best friend.

 

John went to bed, right after they had eaten. He was exhausted from the case and the work today and he could barely hold his eyes open.  
Sherlock stayed in the living room. He texted his date back.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: MisterBee**  
**To: GrumpyTintin**  
**8.02 pm**

  
\- Hey, my hungry cheeky devil,  
Thanks for your words about my brother and me. I think, I will think about it. Maybe it would be worth a try. I’m not a fast man with things like this, but I will report you, when I’ve done it. And maybe you will be there to cheer me up, if it went wrong. :-)

Also, thank you for your comment about me and dancing.  
I think there’s a higher possibility that you will see me dance, than me seeing you playing rugby.

Enjoy your meal and your evening.  
Love,  
MisterBusyAgainBee. -  
\----------------------------------------

\----------------------------------------  
**From: GrumpyTintin**  
**To: MisterBee**  
**8.12 am**

\- My dancing pirate,  
I promise you, on the day we will first meet each other, I will dance with you – until my feet are dying.

I wish you a good night, and send you a kiss and a pat on your hair,  
Enjoy your evening as well.  
Love,  
JustForYouDancingTintin. -  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock beamed at the text, while he was sitting in his armchair.  
Whenever their first meeting will be, he looked forward to it, to that lovely man and a dance with him.  
He loved that gesture.  
And he was falling in love with this man more and more; with every mail and every text, this man reached his heart and took a bit of it.  
And he was willing to give it to this man.


	6. An evening for just the four of us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is having a movie night with Sherlock.
> 
> And GrumpyTintin reveals a few secrets, as well as he gets a few secrets.

**Tuesday, Febuary/23 - 2016, 7 o'clock in the evening, London, 221B Baker Street, living room. -**

John had typed the new case on his blog the whole day, after he had had a sleep in and had been at Tesco’s. Sherlock had been in the Yard and the rest of the day he had been lying on the couch with his laptop, in his dressing gown.  
John didn’t know what Sherlock was searching for, he had said it would be just a bit of research, and something John wouldn’t be interested in. John hadn’t asked twice, Sherlock seemed not willing to give him an answer. But Sherlock had been willing to listen to him more often and more attentively, since John had made a clear statement about listening and friendship a few weeks ago. When he hadn’t repeated his words, just because Sherlock hadn’t listened in the first place.  
It seemed, that he had been successful with his listening-lesson.  
And it felt good.  
He could tell him more, Sherlock listened more and they talked more - because Sherlock listened and reacted to John’s stories or questions.

It was already after 7 o'clock in the evening; John was sitting in Sherlock’s armchair, in front of the fireplace with a cup of tea, just wearing a black T-Shirt and a checkered pajama pants. He was watching television, The Tourist, while he was texting with that incredible adorable man, he had met online. Sherlock was lying on the couch, also with his phone in the hand, watching with John, that action movie.

“What was the name of that bearded bloke? James Depp? Did you know, Depp, is a German word for someone who’s dumb and silly.” Sherlock’s deep voice resonated.  
John turned his head around to face Sherlock on the sofa.  
“It’s not James, it’s Johnny. And yeah, I know what Depp means in German.”  
“Oh, he has your name.”  
“My name isn’t Johnny.”  
“Come on, John, I bet your sister or your friends called you that, as well as your grandparents.”  
“You don’t have to bet, you’re right as always, but my name’s John and not Johnny - okay... it’s just his actor name, his real name is actually John.”  
“Told you, he has the same name.” Sherlock grinned.  
“Mad genius.” John grinned. “I’m curious, do you have a second name?”  
“You know my second name, Hamish.” Sherlock wiggled with his eyebrows.  
“Don’t say that awful name.” John smiled. “I know your second name? So, Sherlock is your second name? What’s your first name?” John asked curiously.

Sherlock sighed.  
“Yes, Sherlock is my second name. The first one is an ordinary name and so I chose Sherlock, and my thrid name is awful, I don’t like him, even Hamish is better than my third name.” Sherlock said. John looked at him, waited for the names. Sherlock sighed again. “My first name is William and my third one is Scott. So the whole thing is William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”  
John bowed his head.  
“Really? Scott? That’s awful, you’re right – it didn’t suit you. But I like William, I think, it’s suits you very well. William is great... but my favourite is Sherlock.” John smiled.  
“Well, thank you... I suppose.” Sherlock smiled.  
John smiled and turned his head to the television and his phone again.

\----------------------------------------  
**GTT:** ... to your question, I’m just hanging around, just like you, being lazy and cozy. :-) I was a bit busy the last few days, and I’m glad to just sit around and to do nothing. You’re not able to do that, am I right? You’re always on the run. Are you really just lying around? ;-)  
**MB:** It’s true, but with you I’m able to just lie around and to do nothing more than to text with you.  
**GTT:** I think, I would enjoy it, to lie around with you, next to you. :-)  
**MB:** I would enjoy that as well. What would it feel like and what would I see? :-)  
**GTT:** Do you want me to describe myself? ;-)  
**MB:** Yes, but don’t forget our deal, not too much detail.  
**GTT:** Okay, um... so I’m not very big for a guy, I’m not slender and not fat, I would say normal, with a little tummy (I really need to go to the gym, before we will meet), I’ve eyes, ears, a mouth and hair, which is sometimes short and sometimes a bit longer. And sometimes I’ve a beard, but mostly it’s a stubble or I’m clean shaven. That’s it. Oh, and I have glasses, but I use lenses most of the times. It’s your turn now.  
**MB:** It’s not much, but it’s our deal, and I like what I read. So it’s me. I’m a tall guy and I’m slender, without a tummy ;-) (You don’t have to go to the gym, I like a little tummy.), well, I’m a bit muscly (really, it’s just a bit, I was never in a gym, it’s just my job, I suppose), and you won’t believe, I’ve eyes and ears and a mouth as well. :-D. My hair is, well, not really short, it’s a bit longer, but I think you would still describe it as a short haircut. Most of the time I’m clean shaven. No glasses. What kind of glasses do you have?  
**GTT:** That’s sounds great, I like what I read, as well. (Thanks, gym is effort, and during my job, I’m running enough and that sort of stuff. :-D ) Black frame glasses, but as I said, I don’t wear them often, sometimes at work, or when I took the lenses out during the night and I read in bed afterwards.  
**MB:** Would you take a picture? Just the glasses. :-)  
**GTT:** I will, wait a moment. :-)  
\----------------------------------------

John stretched his legs out and ran his hand through his hair. The film was interrupted by the advertisement.

“Do you want popcorn... Will?” John teased with a smile.  
Sherlock looked up, a warm feeling tingled through his body. The only person who was allowed, or who had been allowed to use it was and had been Mycroft. He hadn’t heard it for a long time. Mycroft didn’t use it any longer, probably because Sherlock was upset with him all the time. He should really think about that Mycroft-advice from his Tintin, again. He had liked it, when Mycroft had called him that.  
But, to hear it from John, (god knows why), was even better.  
Instead of telling him that, he teased back.  
“No, I don’t want to have popcorn... Hamish. Why are you eating popcorn now?”

John went to the kitchen with a grin.  
“I just want to have popcorn, and I have a day off tomorrow, and so I will watch Paul after The Tourist.” He took the popcorn out of the cupboard and opened the microwave. “Bloody thumbs in a can!” He mumbled to himself and took the can. “New thumbs in a can experiment?” He asked loudly.  
“Who’s Paul? And yes, but you can put them out.”  
“Already happened.” John said, and put the bag with the popcorn into the microwave. “Paul is a movie; it’s about an alien named Paul, he met two freaky nerds, who made a road trip. It’s a comedy, it’s really funny.”  
“I will see, after that Johnny movie.” Sherlock said.

While John was upstairs to make a picture of his glasses, Sherlock used the toilet and went to his bedroom to take his charger, he needed to charge his phone. He didn’t even notice that John went upstairs. When he was back in the living room, John was in the kitchen again.  
He came back to the living area, put a huge bowl down in front of Sherlock’s armchair, and then he came to Sherlock with a smaller one.  
“I didn’t want popcorn, John.”  
John smiled and put the small bowl down on the coffee table.  
“I know, Sherlock – but maybe you change your mind.” He patted the soft curls, and smiled down.  
He hadn’t been able to resist, the curls looked too good, and were just too soft. Without another word, he went back to Sherlock’s armchair and sat down again.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock mumbled.  
John looked at him and nodded with a smile.

After he had eaten some popcorn, he took his phone and sent the picture to his MisterBee. They went on with chatting, while he was eating his popcorn and watching telly.  
It was a great evening, sometimes, they texted back immediately, sometimes a few minutes passed.

\----------------------------------------  
**GTT: sent a picture**  
**MB:** I like them, you need to wear your glasses when we will meet some day.:-)  
**GTT:** And you need to remember me. :-). So I will dance with you and wear these glasses. :-)  
**MB:** And I will bring you a present.  
**GTT:** A gift? What is it? :-)  
**MB:** Surprise, my dear knight.  
**GTT:** Now I’m impatient. :-D. Let’s change the subject, pirate. Reveal something about you, I don’t know, yet. :-)  
**MB:** I’m a smoker, sometimes, rare. Tell me a secret. :-)  
**GTT:** I’m not a smoker, never did it. :-) (Don’t worry, no minus points for you - you are too cute and nice, to get some.) My secret: I’m tattooed.  
**MB:** You’re tattooed? Really? Where are they, and what have you tattooed? Normally, I don’t like that, but in the context of you, I’m turned on by the thought that you have tattoos.  
**GTT:** I can’t tell you much about what it is, it would reveal too much. They are coloured; two of them are on my chest, it’s something about my work, and in the background there is a flag, it looked like my skin would be ripped open and then you see the flag. The other tattoo has something to do with my best friend, a few items, which fit together. And it’s on my upper arm.  
**MB:** Okay, you have to come with your glasses and without a shirt or whatever. ;-). Now, I’m impatient, too. God, I would love to see it. I bet it suits you very well. A tattoo for your best friend, my I ask why?  
**GTT:** No, love, I’m not coming with a bare chest. :-D. But, if you’re lovely and cute the whole date, I think, I would allow you to take off my shirt. ;-)... we shouldn’t talk about that, I’m turned on by the thought, that a tall, good looking guy take off my shirt, to explore my tattoos. ;-). Well, why my best friend, how to put that. I met him, when I was in a bad state, I’ve never told him that, but he saved my life, and that’s really not an overstatement. He’s a very important person in my life, my soul mate, a person I will never miss in my life. And, you know, sometimes you aren’t able to see or to be with that person, and then you need something that reminds you of him. Shared stories and memories weren’t enough anymore and so I dedicated him a tattoo. And I would dedicate him more than that one.  
\----------------------------------------

John was eating his popcorn and Sherlock was eating it too, watching Paul with him.  
He never had showed Sherlock one of his tattoos, and never said that he has any. He was always wearing shirts or T-Shirts, his jumpers or a thin sweater, so Sherlock had never seen it. The army tattoo with the UK flag, he had since his army time, and he didn’t regret it. He was proud of his time in the army, and it reminds him of a really great time, as well as of a bad time afterwards, but also of Sherlock, who saved his life after he returned from Afghanistan; he had healed his limb, nearly his trembling hand and almost his nightmares, and the gun had just been there to end his own life, if he wouldn’t be able to bear it or his PTSD any longer. The dedicated Sherlock-tattoo, was a violin, which upper bout was hidden in the form of a skull, and the lower bout was hidden with a teacup. On the forehead of the skull, one could read 221B. The neck and scroll of the violin weren't hidden. It looked great and he got it, when he had thought that Sherlock would be dead.

\----------------------------------------  
**MB:** I’m sorry, I was distracted by the television, and then by the thought to take off your shirt. (Oh, we didn’t want to talk about that. ;-) – I will be lovely and nice... just wanted to say that.) I think, your best friend can be really happy, to have a best friend like you.  
**GTT:** Not bad. :-). (God, please be lovely and nice... just wanted to say that as well ;-) ) And yes, he can be happy. Your best friend can be happy as well, to have a friend like you. Is he gay or bisexual, just asking, if I need to mark my pirate.  
**MB:** ;-) Stop talking about that. :-D. Um, no you don’t need to mark your pirate, he’s straight. But you can mark your pirate, when he’s taking off your shirt. (Oops, I talked about it... :-D ) Do I need to mark my Tintin?  
**GTT:** :-D, you can’t stop talking about it, lovely pirate. And I will mark you. And you can mark your Tintin as well. But you don’t need to be jealous, my best friend isn’t a relationship guy. ... I get sleepy, sometimes I fall asleep in front of the telly, so I say good night to you. It was really lovely as always.  
**MB:** Don’t dream dirty things, Tintin. ;-). And yes, it was lovely as always. Sleep well. Do you need a kiss?  
**GTT:** I will tell you. ;-). Yes, I need a kiss, as always.  
**MB:** So, then imagine a kiss from me on your temple, and my hand in your hair. Good night, cheeky devil.  
**GTT:** Imagine as kiss back from me, into your hair, and my fingers, which play with your strands.  
_MisterBee is offline._  
\----------------------------------------

John put his phone down, comforted himself into the chair. He was happy, deeply happy, hugely happy. He could beam the whole day. He felt really good with that man.

After the movie was over, he stood up and yawned. He ran his hand through his hair and took his bowl.  
“I’m off to bed Sherlock,... do you still want to watch telly?”  
“No, thanks. It’s enough now.”  
John smiled and came to him, he took Sherlock’s empty bowl as well.  
“I don’t want popcorn.” John smirked and winked. He went to the kitchen.  
Sherlock blushed a bit and sat up.  
“I will get obsessed with food like you, when you fed me like that.”  
“Then I’ve reached my goal as a doctor – give you a healthy appetite.” John said, and came back to the living area, back to Sherlock. He smiled down do him and squeezed his shoulder.  
“Sleep well, if you’re going to sleep... William.” He winked. “I really liked that evening with you.”  
Sherlock grinned softly.  
“I... enjoyed the small talk as well, and the movies with that Alien and that Johnny bloke.” Sherlock said. “Good night,... Hamish.”  
John nodded gently.  
“Good night.” John said warmly, and then he left Sherlock alone.

He went to bed with a really great feeling, with a warm feeling, because of the good night from his pirate and Sherlock.

 

 

 

<https://www.instagram.com/p/BJGSzwPg_M7/> \- John's tattoos on the chest. I painted it for you guys :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the glasses - just imagine Martins black frame glasses :-)


	7. Pictures and Gestures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While John is at work in the clinic, Sherlock's lying around in his bed.  
> He would love to sleep, but some missing thing, doesn't let him.
> 
> And MisterBee gets speechless and touched- as well as Sherlock in the middle of the night.

**\- Friday, March/11 - 2016, late evening, London, 221b Baker Street, Sherlock’s bedroom -**

The whole day, Sherlock had been alone. John had inherited a double shift at the clinic. He would come back in a few hours, in the middle of the night.  
In the last few weeks, their friendship had changed - in a good way. It had begun with his own ironic joke on New Year’s day, when he had said, that he would be a sleepwalker. John had laughed, and he had enjoyed it. Then, John had complained about his amount of spamming messages, and he had stopped it; on the same day he had fetched John up from the clinic and a few weeks later from the King’s Cross Station, after John was back from his medical training and the medical fair. And then, John had made clear, that he wasn’t willing to repeat himself anymore; if Sherlock wouldn’t listen, then it was his problem.

All those things had led to a deeper friendship, because he had changed his behavior in front of John. He had shown more of his real personality and John seemed very happy with this, and that made him very happy as well.  
John answered his texts more often, more properly, sometimes John texted him even during work. And John seemed to be really happy, that he listened properly; John talked more, laughed about his jokes, listened to his experiments and other mad stuff he had done during the day.  
And that led him to one special thing; he showed John this site more and more.

At the moment he was lying in his bed. He was reading.  
During a little break, he took his mobile phone and opened the dating app.  
And there, he opened the new message, with a racing heart and beaming eyes.

\----------------------------------------  
**From: GrumpyTintin**  
**To: MisterBee**  
**10.10 pm**

\- My busy bee,  
I’m a bit busy as well, so I’m terribly sorry, that I wasn’t able to write you earlier. Did you miss me? (Say yes, anyway ;-) )  
Well, I did my research. In our first chat, I said, I would impress you with that.  
So, now I knew, that there are more than 20.000 different species of bees worldwide, and over 700 are living in Europe.  
I know a lot more, but I didn’t want to bore you. I mean, you probably know all about bees.  
I’ve bought a book about bees yesterday. I’m not finished, yet, but I’ve read during my lunch break at work.  
I hope your day was great.

Love,  
KnowsALotAboutBeesTintin -  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock smiled even more after that e-mail. That guy was incredible, he had read something about bees, just for him.  
And a thing that was even better, was that he was online right now.  
He didn’t waste a second.  
He opened the chat box and texted him.

\----------------------------------------  
**MB:** Hey, my bee expert. How are you?  
**GTT:** God, I’m a lucky one, you’re online. I’m fine, a bit tired. How are you?  
**MB:** I’m fine as well. And even happier now, because you’re online. And yes, I missed you. And, no... I’m not just saying that, because you wanted to hear that. I really missed you. I like the chatting. Are you kidding with the book about bees? :-)  
**GTT:** I missed you as well, and I really like these chats with you. And no I’m not kidding. I really bought a book about bees. I wanted to impress you and well, I wanted to have a look at your hobby, on a thing you are interested in. I mean, it seemed to be something you love with your heart. I can prove it, the book is lying next to me right now.  
**MB:** That’s really lovely. Never had a person done this for me beforehand. I’m touched, I’m really touched. And that didn’t happen often. We’re just texting, but if you would tell me that in person, I would be really speechless.  
**GTT:** Really? I’m the first one? Great, so I was really successful with my impression. ;-). It was my pleasure. I really like you, and that’s a subject you really like, so I wanted to see, why you like it that much. I will read the whole book. I’m just a bit busy, so it will take a while.  
**MB:** Thank you, Tintin! And yes, you have impressed me pretty much. And you’re right, it’s something in my life, I really love. If I’m honest, when I’m old, I would love to have a house in the countryside and keeping bees.  
**GTT:** And with a dog :-), to play pirate ;-)  
**MB:** :-) Oh yes, right, that would be great.  
**GTT:** And with me, of course. (To do the thing, we don’t talk about... exploring my tattoos – pssst.)  
**MB:** Pssst. ;-D. So what would you like to have, when you’re old?  
**GTT:** ;-). That’s a tough question. I know, I would love to have a family, no matter where, if countryside, or in a city. Oh, and I would love to travel, for fun and pleasure, of course. And sitting together with friends, having a nice evening. Just enjoy my life, without work.  
**MB:** Let me have my bees and we’re having a deal. ;-)  
**GTT:** You get your bees and the dog. ;-) I would buy you a puppy for your birthday, or just out of context, to surprise you.  
**MB:** That would be probably a perfect gift.  
**GTT:** I will keep it in mind. :-)  
**GTT: sent a picture.**  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock bowed his head and looked at the picture. A book about bees, lying on a white table. He smiled. And he was touched again. His heart was racing, his stomach tingled, and he really liked that feeling.  
He closed the app for a moment and took a picture as well.  
And loaded it up into the chat.

\----------------------------------------  
**GTT:** Do you know that bee book?  
**MB: sent a picture.**  
**MB:** No, I don’t know that book. Is it good?  
**GTT:** Oh my fucking god. (I’m not sorry for that.) You bought a Tintin comic??? You really bought a Tintin comic?  
**MB:** Yes, I really bought that comic. I’m not ready. I made a break, to look if you have sent a mail, and now we’re chatting, but I will read the whole comic.  
**GTT:** Now, I’m the one who’s touched massively. Why, did you buy it? I mean, you said, you’re not into comics, that you just read classic books, like Shakespeare and that stuff, and classic authors, like Charles Dickens, and Hemingway, and Egdar Allen Poe, or specialist books.  
**MB:** I know, and normally it’s not my kind of genre, or literature. But as you said about my bees; it’s something you really like. I would say, you know all about the comics, I bet you’ve read it so often, that you could tell me word for word, who’s saying what, in the comic I bought and in all the other comics. I wanted to know, why you’re so obsessed with it. Well, I wanted to have a look at something you love.  
**GTT:** It’s true, I’ve read them very often. I know, I did the same with your bees, but... anyway, I’m really touched. That’s really lovely, that you did that. I’m babbling right now, but actually, I’m speechless and touched.  
**MB:** Like me. :-). You’re welcome!  
**GTT:** You, too. ... I’m really happy right now. Really, you made my day, with that. By the way, it’s the first comic of Tintin, that was published.  
**MB:** You’ve made me really happy, as well. And I know, that this is the first one, I asked the bookshop owner. I thought it would be good, to start at the beginning. :-)  
**GTT:** Start? You want to read more than that?  
**MB:** I think so, yes. I will challenge you, when we will meet some day. I’m excited who knows more about it. ;-)  
**GTT:** You made my heart race. :-)... And you won’t have a chance, my dear. Don’t try it. ;-)  
**MB:** We will see, Tintin. ;-)  
**GTT:** Are we a show-off? ;-)  
**MB:** Sometimes :-D  
**GTT:** I can live with that. :-D  
**MB:** I’m a lucky one.  
**GTT:** You’re, and me too. Listen,... I need to go, I have a few things to do. It was great to hear from you, and I’m still very touched by your gesture. It’s a great feeling, to know, that you’re interested in my interests.  
**MB:** It’s a shame, I don’t want to let you go, but I have no choice, I suppose. I will read the comic, and think about you. And I’m still very touched by your gesture. Thanks for being interested in the things I love. I can’t thank you enough for that. Sleep well, later - Tintin  
**GTT** : It’s the same for me, I can’t thank you enough. And I don’t want to go as well, but I really need to go. Good night lazy bee. (Kiss on the head)  
**MB:** (Kiss on the temple)  
_GrumpyTintin is offline._  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock sighed, he laid the phone next to him onto his mattress and took the comic again. It wasn’t just a nice feeling, that this guy had bought a book about bees; it was a nice feeling that his date was so much interested in things he loved; and it was a nice feeling, that Tintin, was truly touched by his gesture.  
He had done the right thing, and that was a really good feeling.

 

After he had finished the comic, he stood up and put it into his drawer. He was tired; since he texted with that Tintin guy, he was more relaxed and cozy and that made him more often tired - just like a normal person. The conversations and the good night ritual, with the kiss on his hair and the pat on his head, made him really comfortable – he just needed to imagine it.  
And he asked himself, what it would feel like in real life. That man next to him, patting his hair, kissing his hair, saying good night. And he asked himself, what it would feel like, to kiss the guys temple and to run his hand through his hair.

As tired as he was, he couldn’t fall asleep, when he was lying in bed, under his blanket. He stared into the darkness. Something was missing.  
Someone was missing.  
John.  
And in a way, it didn’t let him sleep. John was still at work, not at home, not at 221B Baker Street, not upstairs in his bedroom.  
He needed to know that John was at home – safely and healthy at home, beforehand, he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.

At 2.45 am, he heard the creaking steps and the door to the flat. A breath of light beamed under his door into his room. He heard John’s footsteps. And then he heard something, he hadn’t expected.  
He heard John’s warm, sleepy, murmuring voice.  
“Sleep well, Sherlock.”  
John had said, and then he had tapped against Sherlock’s door.  
Sherlock took a few deep breathes, he hadn’t breathed in, since he had heard John’s familiar, warm voice.  
He was surprised by the gesture.  
Did John do that every time, when he was in his bedroom?  
Until now, he had never heard it, but until now, he had always been asleep.  
This was the first night, that he hadn’t been able to fall asleep without knowing that John was safely back at Baker Street.

With that gesture of John, the fantasy about the Tintin guy kiss and the bee book gesture, and the sounds of the shower John was taking, he fell into a happy sleep.


	8. PTSD - When a Vision Becomes Blurred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something went wrong.  
> Johns vision becomes blurred.  
> The PTSD has him back - massively and with all the consequences.

**\- Sunday, March/27 - 2016, Streets of London -**

John was standing on the battlefield, or at least he had the feeling it would be the battlefield.  
He could feel the panic, in every fibre of his body. There was no combat uniform, no one, who could help him, but he could feel his gun; his gun in his jeans, at his back.  
Where were his comrades?, he thought in deep panic.  
He looked around, but all he could see: the streets of London – the streets, the paths, the landscape of Afghanistan - and a lot of enemies – with combat uniforms and guns.  
He ran, searched for a good cover, he needed to warn his comrades. This was a mantrap, they wanted to attack them in the rear. He needed to warn his buddies.  
Everyone he saw was an enemy and they shot at him.

He ran and ran and ran, searching for a cover - behind a wall, behind a car, behind a cab, a red phone box.  
He could hear the loud gunfire.  
He was sweating and he was exhausted, but he needed to find his comrades.  
His gun was in his hand, he was ready to shoot.

He ran again, searching a new cover, looking around for his comrades.

He had made it to St. Barts, or in his vision, to their army base.  
But there were people with guns, too; people who weren’t his buddies. He pointed the gun at them, hidden behind a car.  
The people looked terrified, they spoke with him – he should take down the gun, he should take down the gun and calm down.  
“Put your guns down!” John yelled.  
“There are no guns!” A man with a panic looking face screamed back.  
John blinked a few times. He was sweating like mad, the gun still pointed to the other people with the guns.

A man came out of the hospital, out of John’s army base.  
John blinked again a few times, his vision was blurred. But it looked like it was a man with a gun, a tall and slender man with a gun, no combat uniform, but a dark coat and a scarf – and he talked to him.  
“John?”  
“Put your gun down!” John yelled, he pointed the gun to the new man, but eyed the other people as well. “Don’t move!”  
“John, it’s me. It’s Sherlock. John, put the gun down!” The guy named Sherlock said.  
“No! You put the guns down! I will shoot you! Put the guns down! All of you! Guns down! Hit the floor! Hands up!”

John saw in the corner of his eyes, all the people, who kneeled down, hands up in the air, or crossed behind the head.  
Just one person was still standing; just one person hadn’t followed his orders.

“John.” Sherlock said again – calmly. “John, you need to put down your gun. You’re not in Afghanistan.” There was a pause. “John, you’re in London, you’re safe. It’s just the Posttraumatic stress disorder. It’s all fine. No one has a gun. No one. You’re safe John.” He said warmly and calmly.  
John’s gun pointed at Sherlock’s head. He breathed heavily, he sweated heavily.  
“Shut up! Put your gun down! Hit the floor! Hands up!”

Sherlock tried another way, to reach John.  
“Captain Watson, we’re safe. You saved us. All... ”  
But it was too late, he couldn’t finish his sentence.

Sherlock’s mouth formed John’s name, his eyes were in shock, when he heard the trigger of the gun; he slumped to the ground.  
Silence.

John had fired, three times.  
And every bullet had hit Sherlock’s head.

John took a deep breath. His vision became blurred again. And he needed to blink a few times.  
His eyes were confused.  
St. Barts. Screaming people. His hands were shaking. The gun was in his hands.  
He looked around.  
People were running to him. He looked confused, stepped away from the car.  
And the first thing he saw - was Sherlock.  
Sherlock, lying on the ground, in front of St. Barts, bleeding like mad out of his head.  
He dropped the gun.

He wanted to run to Sherlock, but all the people didn’t let him through, immediately.  
“He’s my friend, he’s my friend.” He cried.

He dropped onto his knees in front of Sherlock – mumbling his name as he realized, what he had done. He had shot him during a PTSD trip.

 

The street lights, lit into John’s bedroom, the wind rattled at the window, and the rain whipped and pounded against it. Thunderbolts flickered through the sky and one could hear a loud rumbling thunder.

John tugged at his sheets, the head rolled across the pillow, from the right to the left, from the left to the right. He was sweating, his eyelids twitched; he gasped and panted, mumbled Sherlock’s name like a mantra, tears rolled down his cheeks.

He awoke with a start.  
He panted and gasped for air.  
His hands tugged at the bed sheets. His eyes were big and red and swollen, he had cried for real. His half naked body was soaked in sweat, and his hair was wet as well.  
He blinked a few times, took a few deep breathes. He tried to calm down his heart beat.  
And he shrugged like mad, when he heard the next loud thunder sound.  
He swallowed and needed more than 10 minutes to calm down.

He stood up, took a hoodie and went down to the living area – into the bathroom. He shut the door, the hoodie sailed down to the ground, and John’s shaking hand, turned on the shower.  
He stepped under the cold rain, closed his eyes.  
The water was drooling down his body; it was drooling down his hair, to his shoulder, across his chest; across the coloured army/flag tattoo on the left side of his chest; it was drooling down the tea cup and the skull, which formed the body of the violin.  
He stood there for several minutes, without a noise, without a move.

 

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting in the living room, in his armchair; he was just wearing a checkered loosely boxer shorts, and a hoodie. A small light, next to his armchair, was burning.  
His knees were tucked up, and his arms wrapped around his legs; he bobbed forth and back.

He shrugged with every thunder, and after one of them, he shrugged because of a voice.  
“John?” Sherlock’s deep voice murmured sleepily.  
Sherlock walked around the armchair and looked down at John; he scanned him.  
Damp, tousled hair: red, swollen eyes; a grey, a bit too big, hoodie; a blue, red and white checkered loosely boxer shorts; bare legs; bare feet; bobbing body.

He bowed his head and sat down in front of John’s armchair.  
“Nightmare... ” Sherlock said with a whisper.  
John just nodded.  
“It’s just a thunderstorm John. Nothing more. Just a normal thunderstorm.” Sherlock said calmly. “Do you need a tea, or something else?”  
John shook his head.  
“Come down to me, John.” John watched him with questioning eyes. “Come... come down to me, John.” Sherlock said again.

John looked at him, he slipped out of his armchair, to the floor; he leaned against the armchair.  
And then he felt two long and strong arms, which pulled him into a protective hug.  
Sherlock bobbed with him back and forth, and forth and back – without saying a word.  
John hung stiff into his arms, but after five long minutes, he wrapped his arms around Sherlock, tugged his T-Shirt at the back, and held on for dear life.  
And Sherlock’s hands rubbed across John’s hoodie.

Another fifteen minutes passed by, without a word.  
John just hung at Sherlock, as if his life depends on it, he couldn’t move any closer.  
Sherlock just rubbed John’s back and bobbed forth and back, back and forth with him.  
John calmed down, with a warm feeling in his body.

“Sherlock.” John said with a whisper, a weak whisper.  
“John.” Sherlock whispered as well.  
“I... I,... did you hear me?” John whispered.  
“No, I woke up because I needed the loo. And then I saw the light. I think, I wouldn’t have heard you, the thunder is really loud, and the rain and the wind. Did you knock?”  
“No, I was in the shower. Maybe yelled upstairs... I yelled in my dream.” John murmured into Sherlocks T-Shirt.  
“Afghanistan?” Sherlock asked softly, bobbed still forth and back, rubbed still John’s back.  
“No.” John breathed in horror.  
“Do you want to tell me?”  
“Yes.” John breathed, and tugged more at the fabric of the T-Shirt.

Sherlock nodded and waited.  
“I,... it was a bit Afghanistan. I... I thought it would be Afghanistan, all the people in the streets were in combat uniforms and had guns, I had just my gun. It was a mantrap and I needed to warn my buddies. I ran through the streets, searched for cover and for my comrades. Then, then there was our army base, but we were surrounded by our enemies, with guns and all that stuff.” John swallowed; he tugged and crawled at Sherlocks T-Shirt even more. “They told me to put my gun down. But I yelled back and a man told me, that nobody would have a gun, just me. And... and, you... you came out of the army base, with a gun too. All the people looked terrified and you talked to me, that I should put my gun down, that I would be safe, that this wouldn’t be Afghanistan. It, it would be London. That it would be a PTSD-trip. But I... I just yelled at you, to hit the floor and all these things, but you didn’t do that. Then you tried to call me Captain Watson... ” He pressed his face into the fabric, tears rolled down, he sobbed. “I... I shot at you... three, three times. You... your eyes were, were in shock and your... your lips... “ He sobbed again. “Your lips formed John.” His body was shaking. “Three bullets hit your head, you slumped to the ground... and... and then there were screaming people, London, St. Barts... you were dead... I... I shot you, I shot you to death, during a PTSD trip.” He sobbed loudly.

Sherlock pulled him even closer, rubbed comfortingly across John’s back, bobbed slowly forth and back.  
“It was just a dream, John. Just a dream my friend. I’m here John, I’m here, I’m fine and I’m here with you. The thunder just triggered a PTSD-war nightmare... and the memories of St. Barts and the roof and me came back. But I’m here, John. I’m with you. We’re in London, 221B Baker Street, in the living room, on the ground... I’m hugging you. Can you feel my heartbeat? I’m alive, my friend, my blogger, my doctor... my John. I’m alive.” Sherlock murmured to calm John down.  
“I... I can feel it.” John stuttered. “Your heart is beating.” He murmured.  
“Yes, it is.” Sherlock said gently.

John listened to Sherlock’s heartbeat for a while. And then he heard Sherlock’s deep and warm voice again.  
“I’m disappointed, John. Not because you shot me, I’m disappointed, because you think I would be that dull, to call you John and yelling at you in that situation. I should show off a bit more, again. I’m a genius, doctor. I would have called you Captain Watson in the first place, playing your flashback with you, as your comrade. That you believe, I’m that dull, to call you John. Really, John... I need to show off more, to remember you, that your best friend is a genius.”  
John needed to chuckle, at least a bit.  
And Sherlock smiled as well.  
“Please show off, you drama queen, your doctor and blogger and best friend need the show-off Sherlock, at the moment.”  
“Oh,... it’s something I am really good at. I’m really smart and clever, more than Mycroft, more than the whole city... more than the whole country. To be honest, I’m the smartest and cleverest person in the world, in the whole universe. And your... fucking solar system doesn’t count. Nobody is as clever and smart as me. I’m such a great guy.”  
John chuckled - this time truly.  
“You’re a git.” John chuckled into Sherlock’s T-Shirt.  
“Not just a git, I’m the best and coolest git.” Sherlock smiled.  
John chuckled again.  
“You’re talking nonsense, you maroon.” He chuckled.  
“I am the best at the game ‘talking-nonsense’. If there would be a challenge, I would win the first prize.” Sherlock chuckled as well. “And I will show you something, a thing, I’m the best at, as well. You need to stand up for that. By the way... I am the best at standing up from the ground.”

John broke apart as well as Sherlock. They looked at each other, and John needed to laugh - with red-swollen eyes, and wet cheeks.  
Sherlock winked and stood up, he reached his hand out to John, who took the helping hand.  
Sherlock smiled and nodded to the sofa.  
“You need to lie down.”

John bowed his head, he wiped his tears away and walked to the sofa.  
He sat down, and laid down on it.  
Sherlock had followed him.  
John looked up, with questioning eyes. He scanned Sherlock and his movements. And he did a thing, that John hadn’t expected; Sherlock covered him gently with a blanket. And then, John almost couldn’t believe it, Sherlock ran his hand through his grey hair, which had become a bit longer. Sherlock made him a fluffy wave.  
“Close your eyes.”  
John looked at him, he was speechless by Sherlocks gesture and just closed his eyes.

John heard Sherlock’s footsteps onto the wooden floor.  
And then his heart skipped a beat.  
He could hear the violin, Sherlock was playing the violin to smooth him down, to make him fall asleep.  
He would have never believed that Sherlock would be able to comfort him that much; to comfort him, with a hug, with words, with funny talking, with soft gestures.  
Sherlock had managed it, to calm him down, to make him feel comfortable and cozy again; Sherlock had managed it to fill his body, every fibre, with a warm feeling.

And with a hand on his upper arm, where the tattooed violin was hidden under the hoodie, John fell asleep.


	9. Little Criminals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MisterBee talks about criminal things with his online date.  
> About being a bad or a good guy.  
> And two childhood stories make them laugh.

**\- Saturday, April/16 - 2016, late afternoon, England, in a cab. -**

The late afternoon sunshine was beaming through the windows of the cab. Sherlock had slipped out of his coat and his scarf. This morning when he went to a crime scene with Lestrade and his dumb and dumber colleagues, it had been windy and rainy – just cold and uncomfortable.  
He leaned back in his seat with just his white shirt and his dark trousers. His hand ran through his hair and he closed his eyes for a moment.  
His thoughts drifted to the man, to the man he was texting with – since 107 days now. He was texting with that man since 107 days, every day, at least one e-mail, mostly two, because they wished each other a good night since a while. They sent mails, texted with each other, sometimes they had sent pictures; pictures from a book, a comic, Tintin’s glasses, and other unspecific pictures – so no one could find out, where the other person lives, how the other person looked like, or who it is.  
During the last mails, Tintin had sent in every e- mail, a fact about bees, until he had been finished with the bee book.  
Sherlock had loved it, and not just that, he actually was a bit in love with that man. And he was slowly falling more and more for him.

He opened his eyes again, fished his mobile phone out of the coat. He typed his password and then he opened the app, maybe the Tintin man had already written back.  
There was no new message, but as soon as he was online, his Tintin, his cheeky devil with the glasses and the tattoos, wrote him through the chat function.

\----------------------------------------  
**GTT:** Hey pirate, what a conscience, I was about to reply to your mail. But to chat with you is better, anyway.  
**MB:** And I just wanted to look, if you already have replied. Great to catch you here. So how was your day?  
**GTT:** :-), great minds think alike. ;-). My day was okay. I was the most time of the day at work, so I can’t tell you much about it – just, it was a great day at work, a colleague and friend of mine had brought a cake. It’s her birthday today. And well, so I have eaten a bit of cake. How was your day?  
**MB:** What sort of cake and how many pieces are in your little tummy? ;-). I was working, just like you, so I can’t tell you anything. Um, well, it was fine, I was a bit lonely today, or at least what I call lonely, my colleague wasn’t there, and the others... aren’t that great. Some of them are great and I like them, some of them are annoying and some of them are... how to put that, maybe: I wouldn’t mind if I never see them again.  
**GTT:** Are you controlling my eating habits? :-D. It was a chocolate cake, with mousse au chocolate, mascarpone and marzipan, and pistachio pieces. And I can’t tell you, how much I’ve eaten. (It’s more than 2 and less than 4 :-O)... Well, your colleagues, I think everywhere are people, one don’t like that much. :-D I’ve some of that sort as well at my work.  
**MB:** 3 pieces? Jesus! You have really eaten 3 pieces of that monstrous chocolate cake. I would say, the candy time is done this year – for you. :-D It is still a little tummy?... And you’re right. I’m happy when my main colleague is with me again, it’s more fun at work with him.  
**GTT:** Wait, I will look... (still looking)... oh yeah, it’s still a little tummy. ;-). And nooo, candy time isn’t done. I really love food, I mean... I really love it. It will never be more than a little tummy, I’m often working physically. ;-). So what topic today... secrets again? I love your secrets.  
**MB:** I think you look cute with your tummy, ;-). I’m not the biggest food fan. Well, secrets. That’s nice. So, have you ever done something criminal?  
**GTT:** Of course I’m cute. ;-). A crime,... well, yes. I have, more than once. What about you?  
**MB:** There is the bad boy again. Me too, more than once.  
\----------------------------------------

During his chatting, he answered Mycrofts messages, as kind and nice as possible.

\----------------------------------------

 **GTT:** Really? You? I would have said, you are a really nice guy, who would never do something illegal.  
**MB:** I’m nice during chatting, but I did some illegal things in my life. I’m full of surprises. So what was the biggest crime, you ever did?  
**GTT:** It’s in a way good, so I didn’t feel that bad and criminal anymore. Can’t tell you that, if I do, I need to kill you. :-D  
**MB:** :-D... then we both would be dead – can’t tell you mine as well. A crime or something funny during your childhood? :-)  
**GTT:** During Christmas, when I was 8, I stole candy from my sister, because my candy was already gone. :-D I sneaked into her room at night, and picked all the good things from her plate. I ate all the things in that night, and at the next morning I feel really sick. We went to my grandparents and they had made my favourite Christmas food, but I was feeling really sick and couldn’t eat anything. They comforted me, but my sister looked every now and then to me, with an evil grin. She knew, that I had stolen a lot of chocolate. She hadn’t said anything to our parents or grandparents. She knew, I suffered deeply, because of the Christmas food, I couldn’t eat.  
**MB:** I’m in a cab right now, and I needed to explain myself, because out of nowhere, I was laughing really hard. :-D. That’s a funny story, and it was a bad idea to eat all the candy at once. Was that really necessary? :-D I’m a bit sorry for you.  
**GTT:** Just a bit? Did you never steal from your brother, candy or whatever? :-D  
**MB:** No, he always had given me what I wanted to have. :-D  
**GTT:** Did you ever steal? :-D  
**MB:** Yes. More than once. But I can’t tell you anything. When we meet, I will tell you, I promise. :-). But I sneaked sometimes into his room, and I looked into his drawers and dressers. But I stopped it, when he had a boyfriend.  
**GTT:** I’m looking forward to it. ;-). So, you like to sneak around. You could start with it again, or did he have a boyfriend again? :-D  
**MB:** Don’t know, we didn’t talk about that. But, if I’m honest... I’m absolutely sure, that he has a big crush on one of my colleagues. It’s not really a colleague, it’s a guy, I sometimes work with. It’s someone of the nice ‘colleagues’.  
**GTT:** You need to tell me, when there is more than a crush. :-D  
**MB:** I will. :-D. The childhood stories. Um, my brother picked me up from school once, when I was 15, and one of my teachers took him to the principals office, where I was waiting. They had caught me during smoking and my brother was really mad with me. But he couldn’t betray me in front of our parents, because he’s smoking too – like me, still a smoker, sometimes. Our parents don’t know that.  
**GTT:** I told you, you’re a lucky one. ;-). Is there a funny story? I would really love to hear a funny or cute story.

\----------------------------------------

The cab held in front of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock paid the cabbie and got out.  
He could see the light, that was burning in the living room. John was at home – back from the clinic, back from work, maybe they could go out for some food.  
Sherlock didn’t unlock the door, he sat down on the step – the coat lay next to him.  
He wanted to write with that lovely man for a while.

\----------------------------------------  
**MB:** When I was 5, I was in the bathtub with a cousin of mine, and we played a bit with some plastic plates and cutlery and stuff like that. And I loved the bathtub... and the bathtub water, I drank it, from the plate. I drank a lot of bathtub water. My aunt was sitting in front of the bathtub on that day, and she fed us with little snacks. And her son stood up in the bathtub and she pointed with the knife, she had in her hand at him and said: Sit down! :-D There’s a video, it’s embarrassing, me naked in a bathtub, drinking dirty water and an aunt, who’s pointing with a knife at her son. :-D  
**GTT:** Oh my god, that’s funny and adorable. I can’t decide if it’s more funny or more cute. Probably it’s more funny at the moment. :-D I’m glad nobody’s there at the moment, so I can laugh really loud. :-D. I think, I would find it more cute and adorable, when I would know how you look like. I guess, you were a really cute little kid. Your aunt is a bit freaky. Did she poke him? :-D  
**MB:** Don’t know, my mum always says that I was cute :-) I bet you were much cuter than me, cheeky devil. No, she didn’t poke him. :-D, but almost. It wasn’t a sharp one, just a knife one use for the butter or something like that.  
**GTT:** Nowadays I’m cuter ;-). Are you still looking similar?  
**MB:** I bet you do, but I guess, it’s not just cute, it is also more hot and sexy. I know what you want to ask. I can’t send you a picture. I still look like that. And I think you as well, my dear. Are you not going out today?  
**GTT:** You’re right, hot and sexy as well. ;-). Damn :-( cute little busy bee. And, no. I’m not. Not in the mood. Maybe ordering some takeaway. What’s up to you tonight?  
**MB:** I’m sorry. :-). Don’t know, if I’m going out, maybe later. I’m almost at home. I say good night later. Just enjoy your maybe-takeaway.  
**GTT:** Oh, you’re leaving me alone, in my boredom. I’m looking forward to your mail later. Enjoy your evening as well. Feel free to text me, if you’re not going out. :-). Great that we were able to text a bit. I’m babbling, because I don’t want you to leave.  
**MB:** You’re cute Tintin. You make me smile every time, really. I’m glad we met. It’s lovely every time. Sometimes I can still laugh about things you told me a few weeks ago. I enjoy it. I will write you later again. :-)  
**GTT:** It’s the same for me. :-)  
_MisterBee is offline_  
\----------------------------------------

Sherlock had already unlocked the door in the basement. It was every time a great feeling to chat with that guy. It was a great feeling during their chat and a great feeling afterwards. He felt really comfortable with it - and with himself.  
His day had been fine as well.  
Okay, the weather had been bad at the beginning, and he had needed to go without John, but the case had been great, and it still was a case. Later, he would do a bit of research, probably the whole night. But for now, he would make a break, with his best friend. They could go out for some dinner, and they could talk about the case. He was sure, John would have a few great ideas, and that he would love to help him with the case. Maybe he could convince him to stay awake the whole night.

He went upstairs, hung his coat and the scarf on one of the pegs and shoved his mobile phone into his trouser pocket.  
Then he opened the door.

John was sitting on the sofa, with a newspaper in front of him, to be precise, the newspaper lay on the coffee table. John looked up and smiled.  
“Oh, hey. You’re already back. How was the case? You look really cozy and relaxed and satisfied; so I bet it’s a good one.”  
Sherlock bowed his head and smiled.  
“Well, and you look... really lazy. The case is great, Anderson was dull as always, Donovan annoying as always and a bit grumpy today and the other one... Gavin, well he was okay.”  
John grinned and shook his head.  
“I’m not just looking like that, I’m lazy. I hadn’t slept well that night, because of that party in 221C and then I needed to go to work really early. And it’s Greg, Sherlock.”  
“I know, I was just kidding. I was awake, anyway, but the music was horrible.”  
“You’re not kidding.” John grinned. “Maybe you’re kidding, and it’s just your pet name for him. I think, he likes that too. I think, he would miss it, if you would call him Greg out of a sudden.” John chuckled.  
“Gavin-Greg-Lestrade-conversation is over.” Sherlock grinned  
John smirked up at Sherlock.  
“By the way, your lovely brother texted me, a few minutes before you came in – you wouldn’t write back, and the question would be really important.”  
Sherlock pulled a face.  
“It’s just about mummy’s birthday, I already replied. He can’t decide about the present. I was busy with something else. I will reply later.” Sherlock said.  
“Fine.” John nodded.

Sherlock bowed his head again.  
“How about Angelo’s?”  
John looked up again. He licked across his lips, locked their eyes with each other and smiled widely.  
“Starving!”


	10. Bathtub Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day at work, John needs a bath.  
> He has a bit time for himself - Sherlock's out in the morgue and the laboratory.  
> But their are doing something for their friendship, to let it become even deeper.
> 
> And GrumpyTintin has a nice and cozy chat with his MisterBee.

**\- Tuesday, April/19 - 2016, London, 221B Baker Street, bathroom -**

It was late; almost 11 o’clock in the evening.  
Water flowed into the bathtub – hot water. Steam had already seized the whole bathroom, and in the bathtub a lot of foam was built.  
John was alone at 221B Baker Street, even Mrs. Hudson was out for a few days, she was visiting a friend of hers in Scotland. Sherlock was at the clinic, to be precise, he was in the morgue – in the laboratory.  
At first, Sherlock had tried to convince John, to come with him. But John hadn’t wanted, he had taken up the slack for a colleague in the clinic, and so he had been at work since 4 o’clock in the morning, which means, he was awake since 2.30 am. And on top of that, on the day before, he had worked as well. And to make it accurate, he had been chasing through London’s underground the whole weekend with Sherlock – Friday to Sunday. A case from the Yard.

He was deathly exhausted, and Sherlock had given up after he had asked John three times. On top of that, Sherlock had gone to the morgue without being mad or upset with him, and Sherlock hadn’t sulked, and he had wished him a good night; and a few minutes ago, when Sherlock seemed to have arrived at St. Barts, John had got a message from him, with a very nice and sweet text.  
To name it a text was maybe too much. It was just a three word message, and one of the words, was a name.  
Sherlock had sent him a good night message, to be precise, he had written:  
_Sleep well, John._  
It wasn’t more than that, but it made John feel really cozy and happy.

He wouldn’t go to bed in the next hour, he was appointed with his bee date at 11 pm, for a little chat. They had texted each other in the morning, but only for a few minutes – they both had been busy. So, they had said, that they would chat in the evening.  
John unbuttoned his shirt and his jeans, and slipped out of the clothes. At the end he slipped out of his socks and his boxer briefs.  
He turned off the hot water, tested the temperature with his hand, and then he got in.  
He sighed in relish, slipped into the water and leaned against the back of the tub.

His eyes were closed, the knees were angled and looked a bit out of the water.  
He enjoyed the silence, the hot water, the feeling of Sherlock’s lovely message.  
His muscles relaxed a bit.

John looked around and grabbed the towel, that was lying next to the bathtub. He dried his hands and took his mobile phone.  
They hadn’t started texting, yet, but John was already beaming with his eyes and his whole face. His stomach tingled, his whole body tingled with pure happiness. The anticipation was huge.  
He tapped on the dating app and on their chatbox.

\----------------------------------------  
**MB:** First one this time. ;-)  
**GTT:** ;-) That’s cheating. It wasn’t 11 pm. I don’t know if that counts. :-D  
**MB:** I don’t care. Rules are boring. :-D  
**GTT:** Said the one, who never cheated in school. Oh, okay, but you did illegal things. (I almost asked, if you were able to break rules. :-D – What was I thinking?)  
**MB:** Are you sleepy? ;-)... I was a shy and cute little kid, but since my late teen years, I’m not that sweet and shy anymore.  
**GTT:** I was never shy :-D. Well, yes, I’m very sleepy to be honest. The week started with a lot of work. I’m really exhausted right now.  
**MB:** I know, you’re my little cheeky devil. ... Close your eyes and imagine me bringing you a cup of tea and then massaging your shoulders and nape. :-)  
**GTT:** Oh my god, that would be perfect. You could join me in the bathtub. I would allow you to drink the bathtub water.  
**MB:** I’m no longer fancy drinking bathtub water, but I would join you, after bringing you the tea. (Are you really in the bathtub, at the moment? Or was it just something to imagine?)  
**GTT:** A biscuit is your entrance ticket to the bathtub. ;-). I’m really sitting in the bathtub right now – with a lot of foam, hot water... I just have forgotten a tea, a biscuit and my cute little bee boy.  
**MB:** You can’t imagine how much I would love to be with you right now and to bring you your tea and your biscuit... and me as well. And I suppose, a picture isn’t allowed. God, I would love to see your tattoos and you in that bathtub.  
**GTT:** I could send you a foam picture. You need to be patient, dear – the whole surprise after a shared date would be destroyed. The whole excitement... and exploring, wouldn’t exist any longer. That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?  
**MB:** It would be a shame, that’s absolutely true. (Let’s forget the tattoos, and you naked in a bathtub right now – I’m at work.)  
**GTT:** (I don’t know what a tattoo is, or a naked guy in a bathtub. ;-) ) How was your day, busy bee? Still at work or just started?  
\----------------------------------------

John put the phone aside for a moment. Wouldn’t he be that sleepy and exhausted, and wouldn’t he have back pain and shoulder pain and headaches, he would be massively turned on by the fact, that this guy was so impatient about his tattoos and that he would love to be here right now to explore them, and probably the rest of the naked body.

It would be lovely to have him here. And it would be lovely if someone would bring him a nice cup of tea and a biscuit. A massage would be lovely and nice as well.  
He closed his eyes and imagined his bee guy. He hadn’t much information.  
The guy was tall, so a tall guy entered the bathroom.  
A tall, slender guy, with a cup of tea.  
A tall, slender guy, a bit muscly, with a flat chest, a flat stomach, popping arm veins, entered the bathroom with a cup of tea and a biscuit.  
A tall, slender guy, a bit muscly, with a flat chest, a flat stomach, popping arm veins, and neither short nor long hair, entered the bathroom. He brought him tea and a biscuit, sat down on the edge of the bathtub and smiled at him.  
There wasn’t a face, but for a short, shocking moment he saw Sherlock’s gently smiling and winking face, in front of his eyes.

John sat up, opened his eyes abruptly. He blinked a few times, ran his hand through his hair, and rubbed his eyes.  
He was definitely too sleepy, and the hot water seemed to not doing him good.  
And he was definitely a bit, no, he was much more than a bit confused.  
He really loved Sherlock, he really did – as his best friend. He loved to be in his nearness, he missed him if he was away, he loved to work with him, to live with him, to have a bit of fun with him, and to talk and to laugh with him. But he had never imagined more than just a friendship with him. No way.  
Okay, maybe it was a little crush – but not more. Was it more? No. No. He was definitely falling in love with his busy bee, to be honest, he was almost in love with him, that was more than a crush, much more.  
Much more of a crush than the crush for his mad, lovely flatmate.

Maybe it was just the fact, that their friendship had changed in the last few months – in a really positive way. They were much closer now, just by the fact that Sherlock had slightly changed. He was more relaxed and cozy throughout the day. He was a bit more funny and nice and caring.

When John thought about that nightmare night, he still couldn’t believe Sherlock’s more than lovely behavior.  
Of course, they had touched each others shoulders, or arms, parts like that, but they hadn’t hugged that often, in fact, they had hugged twice, and that was almost two years ago, after their big fight – the fight about the rooftop thing.  
But that night after his nightmare, Sherlock had hugged him, had comforted him in his arms for almost half an hour; he had held him, had rubbed his back, had bobbed their bodies forth and back. And then he had said something funny to cheer him up, and after that, he had played a funny show-off. And not to forget, he had played his violin, to calm him down and make him fall asleep.  
They hadn’t talked about it the next day; he had just thanked Sherlock, who had nodded and smiled.

He dived for a short moment, ran his fingers through his hair, took the towel again, dried his hands and took his mobile phone.

\----------------------------------------  
**MB [11.22 pm]:** I just started :-) May I ask about a little detail? Did you need to study for your work?  
**MB [11.32 pm]:** Sleeping in the bathtub isn’t good for staying alive.  
**GTT [11.34 pm]:** God, I’m sorry, I was in thoughts. Sorry, dear. Well, yes. I have studied. What about you?  
**MB:** Thank goodness, you’re still alive and healthy. :-). Yes, I have studied as well. Do you still work in the field you studied?  
**GTT:** Don’t worry, I never die. I’m like John McClane. ;-). Yeah, mostly I need all these things I studied for my job. It’s a bit different from what I wanted to do and what I’m actually doing, but it’s fine. You?  
**MB:** John McClane, that’s the guy from Die Hard, isn’t he? I watched it once, all of them. It’s not possible to survive that, you know? :-D. Your question... more no than yes. In a way I need it for my job, but I use it more as a hobby now.  
**GTT:** Of course, it’s possible :-D. Or have you seen him die? And I know a person, who seemed to be unkillable and lucky as well. ... That sounds interesting. I’m excited what you’re doing for a living.  
**MB:** It’s a movie, Tintin. ;-) They work with tricks. ... I’m excited as well. :-)  
**GTT:** ;-) I’m not stupid.  
**MB:** I know, you’re a smart one  
**GTT:** :-) I am. I’m getting really, really tired, busy bee. I should leave this bathtub and go to bed. And I don’t want to bother you during your work. I’m sorry, I’ve hoped we could text a bit longer, but the day went a bit different.  
**MB:** It’s a shame, but I can understand it. And you haven’t bothered me. It was really nice, as always and it really doesn’t matter how long we text, I enjoy it every time. Drink my tea and eat my biscuit, and afterwards go to bed, and enjoy my caresses in your hair and my little kisses.  
**GTT:** I will drink your delicious tea, and eat that tasty biscuit. And I will enjoy, your caresses and kisses. I hope you didn’t mind that I’m really cuddly. I’ll literally crawl into you.  
**MB:** I don’t mind, as long as you’re the one who does it. So feel free to cuddle with me. Good night, Tintin, sleep well. Some day, I will kiss you good night for real.  
**GTT:** Some day I will cuddle with you for real. Sleep well, buzzing bee.  
_GrumpyTintin is offline_  
\----------------------------------------

John put the phone away. He stood up, stepped out of the bathtub and dried his body and his hair. He hung the towel away, put on his boxer briefs and took all his other clothes. He brought them upstairs; and then, he just couldn’t resist, he walked downstairs again to make himself a cup of tea and to eat a biscuit.  
He was more than just tired, but the texting with his buzzing bee, had made him needy for a tea and a biscuit.

After his tea and the biscuit, he wrote a little note for Sherlock and laid it on its pillow. He would find it, when he would come home later.

 

John didn’t notice anything, when Sherlock came home at almost 4’o clock in the morning. He was deep down in his dream, and so he didn’t notice that Sherlock made himself a cup of tea and ate a biscuit as well.  
And he was totally unaware of Sherlock’s happiness, when he found the little note on the pillow.

 

**\- I’m sorry, that I hadn’t been on your side tonight, my friend.**  
**I hope you had a great time in the laboratory.**  
**Maybe you’re awake for a late breakfast.**  
**I would love to hear what you have done the whole night.**  
**Sleep well, Sherlock. -  
**

 

But John was happily aware of Sherlock’s smiling thank you the next morning; of the breakfast, Sherlock had made for him; and of the story of Sherlock’s night at the laboratory.


	11. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescuing Dr. John Hamish Watson will be need.  
> But the doctor is grumpy, makes a clear statement about friendship and listening again - which deepend their friendship as well. 
> 
> And then the doctor miss a thing, that Tintin would have done.

**\- Wednesday, May/11 - 2016, early in the morning, London and 221B Baker Street -**

Sherlock hung in John’s arms, who dragged him through the streets of London.  
They were both soaked wet, with a disgusting smelling liquid, also referred to as Londoner sewage. They had been in London’s underground, which means they had been in the canalisation system of London, the whole night.  
They had chased a criminal – as always – through half London; they had fought, they had almost lost their lives, or to be precise, Sherlock had almost lost his life in the dirty, foul-smelling underground of London.  
Sherlock could thank John for his military past and his more than good hit quote. He had killed a man for Sherlock, again.

Lestrade and his crew had been there as well, of course, after all was over, after all was done; after Sherlock was soaked in blood, sweat, foul-smelling water. Even Mycroft had been there.

After a fight with Mycroft and Lestrade, Anderson and Sally; John had dragged him away from the crime scene. They had fought about the risk and all that dull stuff, and Mycroft was really upset with him, because Sherlock hadn’t wanted to go to the hospital. In the end Sherlock had punched one of the rescuers, which made Mycroft even angrier, as well as Lestrade and John.  
He just didn’t want to be cured by a rescuer, he had his own doctor, and that was John. And nobody else than John was allowed to fix him.

Now, he hung in John’s arms, who was really grumpy, mad and upset with him, and who dragged him to their flat.  
Sherlock was really exhausted and he could barely walk on his own. He felt really dizzy, his vision was blurred, he had headaches, and he felt the pain in every other body part as well. He just stumbled through the streets with John.

John stopped and fished the keys out of his wet jacket. He unlocked the door and pulled him into 221B Baker Street.  
On their way to the flat, the sewage drooled down on the floor.  
John panted and gasped for air, he was exhausted as well, and Sherlock hung in his arms like a sack full of rocks. For a moment, John thought, he wouldn’t be able to carry Sherlock into the flat.  
But in the end he managed it, god knows how.

He dragged him into the bathroom and sat him down onto the toilet.  
He took a deep breath and slipped out of his jacket.  
Sherlock leaned his head back against the tiles. He was freezing like hell, his body was shaking.  
“You need to undress. I will do that for you. And then I will fix you. And then you take a bath. It’s nothing to discuss.” John said seriously.  
Sherlock nodded a bit, his eyes were closed.

John looked down to him for a brief moment and then he slipped out of his own shoes, out of his socks, out of his jeans. He rolled up his shirt sleeves.  
And then he began to undress Sherlock.  
No scarf today, but his coat.  
Sherlock moaned after every movement.  
John dropped down the coat.  
After the coat, he took Sherlock’s shoes off and his soaked socks. He stood up again and began to unbutton Sherlock’s purple shirt – button after button – slowly and gently. John shoved the shirt down Sherlock’s shoulders.

On the stomach was a big cut; a big stab wound from a knife.  
“Bloody hell Sherlock!”  
Sherlock just moaned, he looked after John, who was walking to the basin. His doctor washed hands and then he took the first aid bag, which was standing in the bathroom and was armed for every possibility. Sherlock didn’t take his eyes from John, who kneeled down again and pulled over a pair of surgical gloves.

John still looked very upset and grumpy, but as grumpy and upset as he was, as soft and caring, he fixed Sherlock’s injury.  
He cleaned his whole stomach gently, dried him a bit. He cleaned the stab wound carefully and slowly, and he stitched it softly. Afterwards, he applied a special plaster; he wrapped a surgical bandage around his stomach, and in the end he wrapped a special waterproof bandage on top of the first one.  
“You will be able to bath with that, afterwards we can take off the waterproof bandage.” He stood up and looked into Sherlock’s face. “Let’s fix the cut on your forehead and the rest.” John said.  
It was the same procedure.  
John was more than just carefully and gently. He cleaned the cut on the forehead and the one on the right cheek; he cleaned the nose and the lip; he fixed them all. The cut on the forehead with a stitch and a waterproof plaster.

John stripped off the surgical gloves and cupped Sherlock’s face.  
“The nose isn’t broken, but you will have a nice bruise, the cut on the lip and on your cheek will be fine in a few days, as well as the cut on your forehead. The stab wound will need a few days longer, I will take care of it, until it’s fine again. You’ve been really lucky Sherlock. Especially with that stab wound. You can be really lucky, that this man wasn’t good at knife fighting, and fighting as well, and that he was a bit too slow with his gun.” He said seriously. “I will give you your bathrobe, so you can warm up a bit, until the bathtub is ready.”  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Thank you.” He murmured in a low whispering voice.  
John nodded.

 

Fifteen minutes passed by.  
Sherlock was sitting on the toilet, covered under his bathrobe - in the meantime without his trousers, just in his boxer briefs.  
John came back into the bathroom, he had changed into a hoodie and a sweatpants in the meantime; he would go into the shower or the bathtub, when Sherlock would lie in his bed, or at least on the couch.  
He walked to the bathtub and turned off the water. He turned his head to Sherlock.  
“Can you stand up alone?”  
“I guess,... yes.” Sherlock murmured. He put the bathrobe away and stood up slowly.  
John waited, while Sherlock was coming to him. He helped Sherlock into the bathtub, when Sherlock reached him. And he helped him to sit down properly.

John sat down on the edge of the bathtub.  
Sherlock moaned and sighed, when he felt the hot water. He leaned back, closed his eyes.  
John looked around and took one of the cups, which were standing on a sideboard, next to the bathtub. He ran the cup through the hot water, filled the cup, and while he ran the cup through the water, he touched Sherlock’s thigh softly.  
“What... ?” Sherlock wanted to say.  
“Shut the fuck up Sherlock. Eyes stay closed. I will wash your hair.”  
“But... I... “  
“I said, shut the fuck up. Bloody hell. Do you need to have the last word every time? And don’t dare to answer that question. Just be quiet.” John said in rage. “Attention. Water is coming.” He said angrily, but with a warm touch in the end.

Sherlock closed his mouth again. And then he felt John’s hand in his hair and the pleasant hot water. He held his breath. The soft touch was more than welcome, he almost purred and the first thought that came to his mind, was the bathtub texting with his Tintin. It was almost a month ago, but he remembered it very well. He would give nearly everything to have him here right now. And John’s soft touches and his presence felt almost exactly like that. It was almost the same warm feeling in his body, almost the same cheering up in his body and mind. It almost felt, as Tintin would be here right now.

John ran his hands through Sherlock’s curls, washed his hair carefully and softly, and with more of the hot water, he cleared all the foam and soap out of Sherlock’s hair again.  
Sherlock opened his eyes afterwards.  
He looked up to John like a little maltreated boy.  
“You... shot a man... again.” Sherlock murmured.  
“You are the next one.” John said, and put the cup away.  
“Why are you so upset and grumpy and angry with me?” Sherlock asked sadly.  
John looked down to him.  
“I told you that a few months ago, but the famous Sherlock Holmes thought he didn’t need to listen.”  
“Please, John. Please, tell me why you’re angry with me.” He said again – truly sad, almost heart broken.

John swallowed and cleared his throat.  
“Um... ” He stuttered. “Sherlock, look. I’m not angry with you, because we chase around London and are hunting mad psychopaths and their sidekicks. I like to go on... adventures, with you. I really do, and I miss it, if we haven’t a case for a while. But... sometimes it is just too much. There are things, the police should do. I’m not allowed to have that gun or to use it, actually, and you now that. And, actually, I don’t want to use the gun, then that means, that you’re in danger. I’m mad with you and angry and upset, because I care for you, I’m worried about you. I don’t want that someone hurts you, neither physically, nor emotionally. I’m just angry and grumpy, because I was really scared and worried about you. You’re such an important person for me and I don’t want to lose you again. I truly care for you, and every time, when I’m really worried about you, or scared... I get angry, especially when you put yourself in such a situation. You know, it’s just the panic of losing you.” John admitted.

Sherlock had listened properly this time and in the end he bowed his head.  
“I... I understand. I am... I am sorry John, I’m really sorry.” Sherlock murmured, and looked up to him with apologetic eyes.  
John bowed his head as well, and locked eyes with him. He patted Sherlock’s cheek.  
“Come on, out with you,... you should try to sleep a bit, or at least to rest a bit, Sherlock. It will do you good, especially your head.”  
“I’m tired.” Sherlock mumbled.  
John smiled and stood up. He walked to the door and took Sherlock’s second bathrobe, a grey one.

Sherlock stepped slowly out of the tub, and slipped into the bathrobe. John patted his back and took a towel. He stretched a bit and patted Sherlock’s hair dry as much as possible.  
“I’m tired.” Sherlock murmured again.  
“I know, I just don’t want that you catch a cold, my friend. I‘m ready.”  
Sherlock nodded and walked slowly to his bedroom.  
John followed.

Sherlock dropped into his bed.  
John covered him with the blanket. He bent down to him.  
“Sherlock,... listen, you don’t need to worry when I’m angry with you,... you need to worry when there will be a day, I’m no longer angry, then that means I no longer care for you.” John said warmly.  
Sherlock looked with his eyes up to him.  
“Listen you mad genius,... I’m in the shower now, okay? And afterwards I’m in the living room. If you need anything, yell... or call me or text me. I’m with you in a tick. Okay? Try to sleep or to rest a bit.”  
Sherlock nodded a bit.  
“Thank you, John. Thank you.” Sherlock said sleepily.  
“It’s fine. Sleep well.” He patted Sherlock’s damp hair.  
“Hmm... ” Sherlock closed his eyes.

And when John closed the door, Sherlock’s thoughts drifted to Tintin again.  
“A kiss was missing; he forgets the kiss, Tintin... ” Sherlock murmured before he fell asleep.


	12. I would love to meet the man, I fell in love with

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a surprise during his lunchbreak, which leads him to make the first step as GrumpyTintin.

**\- Saturday, May/28 - 2016, London, St. Barts, cafeteria -**

John was on his way to the cafeteria of St. Barts. Lunchtime, and he was hungry as hell.  
He hadn’t eaten breakfast, it had been too early and he had overslept. And so there had been just enough time to take a shower and to get ready for work.  
No tea, no breakfast, but a mess in the kitchen from Sherlock’s experiment.  
Sherlock hadn’t been there, but he had left a note for John.

 

**\- I’m in the morgue and the laboratory. -**

 

John strolled through the corridors, wearing a white Polo Shirt, a white medical scrub, white trousers and comfortable trainers.  
And out of a sudden he felt an arm around his shoulders, and he heard a deep, familiar voice.  
John startled.  
“Lunch, Doctor Watson?”  
“Fuck! Sherlock! You scared the shit out of me.”  
Sherlock's arm was wrapped around John’s shoulders.  
“Why are you having such a high startle response?” Sherlock asked. “Do you have a secret?” Sherlock raised his eyebrow.  
“I have a lot of secrets, Sherlock... there a handful of secrets which come to my mind immediately.” John said, and in his head, he could see the words: rugby, tattoos, glasses, busy bee, crush on Sherlock. “And I guess, you have secrets as well. I thought you were already at home.”  
Sherlock scanned him.  
“Yeah, I have secrets. Of course, there a lot of secrets.” Sherlock said, and his mind was filled with secrets immediately. Probably deeply in love with Tintin, missing Mycroft as his brother, his childhood, his dog, crush on John, ballet – were just a few secrets. “So, Dr. Watson, are you spending your lunchtime with me?”  
“Um... well, yes, of course. I was on the way to the cafeteria, anyway. I’m starving.”

John pushed a door open.  
“I know.” Sherlock smiled, and loosened his arm around Johns shoulder.  
“How do you know that?” John asked, and walked with Sherlock through the corridor.  
“I was busy the whole time, and then I thought, I could visit you at the A&E, but you weren’t there. And your colleague... Mary, or something like that, she told me, that you’re on your way to the cafeteria for a proper meal.”  
“Mary is the right name.” John nodded, and opened the door to the cafeteria.  
“Why isn’t she your date?”  
“Oh, would you allow that?” John grinned, and took a tray. “Take a tray Sherlock, you will eat something!” John said seriously, to be precise it was his army order voice, and Sherlock took a tray with a sigh. “And she’s just a colleague and friend of mine. I don’t want to have a date with her.” He took a water, a banana, a little bowl with salad and queued up for the proper meal. “Don’t bother me with your date questions Sherlock. I will introduce you, when it happens.”

Sherlock queued up with him. On his meal tray stood a glass of water and an apple.  
“So, you’re dating someone? How it happened that I haven’t noticed that, yet?”  
“I’m not dating anyone, Sherlock. I just said, that I would introduce you, if there would be a date.” He took some fish, potatoes and vegetables. “Pick a meal, Sherlock. You will eat more than that little baby apple, you searched out of the fruit basket.”  
Sherlock sighed again, and looked around, scanned the food. The people behind him were waiting, and so John took the dipper and put Sherlock the vegetable bake on the plate  
“It’s too much!” Sherlock complained with a grumbling child voice.  
“No, it’s not! It’s a normal portion, for a big, adult man, who behave like a child right now.” John put the dipper aside. “Come on, other people want to eat as well.”  
Sherlock grumbled and followed John.

John paid for them both with his medical card and went with Sherlock to a free table. They sat down and John scanned Sherlock, after he had taken a sip from his water.  
“You aren’t wearing your coat and your scarf.”  
“It’s summer John, the sun is shining, and it’s warm, I don’t need a coat and a scarf now.”  
“What’s that? I never saw this jacket. It looks really casual.”  
“It’s just a normal, navy blue summer jacket, John”  
“Normally you’re wearing suit jackets or your coat. And what’s that... ?” He stretched his arm across the table and fumbled at the T-Shirt, Sherlock was wearing. “Is that a white and grey striped T-Shirt? Are we having a date or have we reached the midlife crises?” John grinned.  
“Nothing of that!” Sherlock said, and took John’s hand off of his T-Shirt.  
“It suits you very much... that casual look. You should wear it more often.” John smiled and took his cutlery.  
“Thanks. I’m flattered by your compliment Dr. John Hamish Watson.” Sherlock said in a teasing voice. “So, you look nice in your doctor outfit.”  
John grinned even more.  
“Are we having a doctor kink,... William!?” John grinned and teased.  
“Do you want me to have a doctor kink,... Hamish!?” Sherlock hit back, and raised his eyebrow.

John watched him, he hadn’t expected such a good counter attack. He licked his lips unconsciously.  
“Shut up and eat.” He said, after he had licked his lips twice.  
Sherlock eyed him and grinned.  
John cleared his throat, and suddenly he was very busy with his fish.

 

They ate together, and Sherlock, managed it to eat his whole meal, the whole portion, John had put on his plate. It was food from the clinic, but for that, it had been really tasty.  
Sherlock had walked John back to the A&E.

John looked up and patted Sherlock’s upper arm.  
“It was nice, Sherlock. Really... I liked it. I could get used to it. I wouldn’t mind if you come here, to have lunch or dinner with me... or to fetch me up. It’s a nice gesture. I’m babbling, sorry. Um, well. I just wanted to say, that it was nice.”  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Well, yes. I will see, if I will do that sometimes,... fetch you up and that stuff. I’m off to Baker Street now. Don’t kill your patients. I see you later.” Sherlock said.  
John chuckled.  
“I will try. You know... um, when you’re home and you’re bored,... we need groceries and the kitchen looks like a battlefield. Just, when you’re bored.” John winked.  
“Then I will be never bored again.” Sherlock said with a grin. He patted John’s shoulder and turned around.  
John grinned and turned around as well.

Before Sherlock left the clinic, he turned his head around. John was doing the same; they locked eyes with each other, smiled warmly; they even raised their hands for a wordless good bye, before they smiled tenderly, and broke their eye contact in a slow way - as if they both didn't want to break it.

 

While Sherlock was at home the rest of the day, John spent the afternoon in the clinic. And after his work shift, he walked out of St. Barts and went for a stroll to the park. He sat down on one of the benches and enjoyed the sunshine.  
Sherlocks chatter about dates, had made him think the rest of the day. His thoughts had been constantly by his buzzing bee, and now, where he was sitting in the park, his thoughts drifted to him again.  
Immediately, he felt comfortable and relaxed, cheered up after a hard day; he felt his fast beating heart, that pounded like mad against his rib cage; he felt his tingling stomach, his tingling body; and he felt that warm feeling in every fibre of his body.  
To say, that he was a bit in love with that guy, was an understatement. Over the last 5 months, he had fallen in love with that guy, every day a bit more.  
He needed to meet him urgently. He wanted to go out with him, he wanted to see him, to hear his voice, to talk with him the whole night, or if there would be the same chemistry in real life, he would love to kiss him and take him to bed.

He opened his eyes and took his phone out of his trouser pocket. He opened the app and clicked immediately on the chat box, and typed a quick message.

\----------------------------------------  
**GTT:** Don’t go offline!  
**MB:** Oh, hey, cheeky devil. Wow, you’re lucky. I was about to go offline now, I just wanted to see if you have replied or if you are online right now.  
**GTT:** Now I am.  
**MB:** Are you alright?  
**GTT:** Yeah, yeah, I am. I was just busy the whole day... and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I need to ask something.  
**MB:** For me, you never need to stop thinking about me. :-). And what is your question?  
**GTT:** Can we meet? I mean properly. I would love to meet you. I would really love to go out on a date with you. I don’t care, if I need to travel through whole England for that. I really want to have a proper date with you. As soon as possible. I love to text and email with you, but... I don’t know how to explain. I mean, we never met before, but... it’s like I would miss you. I miss you, and you’re missing in my life, you’re missing in the morning and throughout the day and in the evening, even when we text each other.  
\----------------------------------------

John looked nervously at his phone. His heart was beating like mad, and his right feet drummed nervously on the ground. He waited for a response.

\----------------------------------------  
**MB:** Wow. Well, yes. Of course, of course, I would love to go out on a date with you. So, if this is an invitation for a date, I say yes – because you’re missing too. And I would love to see the face and hear the voice, to that lovely personality.  
**GTT:** Your Yes is more than welcome. Are you free next Friday?  
**MB:** I’m free next Friday. :-)  
**GTT:** God, I’m so happy right now. Where are you? In which city or village will we meet?  
**MB:** You need to come to London, if you want to meet a really happy buzzing bee.  
**GTT:** London? You’re living in London? Bloody hell. I’m from London, too.  
**MB:** I really wanted to hear that. :-). So we’re able to meet more than once at any time.  
**GTT:** Yeah, wow – that’s great. When we wrote about dancing, I wanted to tell you, that I know a club, where people just meet to dance. Nothing more, just for dancing. I thought it would be a great thing for you, because all the people are there to dance and not on the search of a good shag, and especially the women, would have loved to dance with you. But, I thought, we wouldn’t live in the same city.  
**MB:** I’ve never heard of that club. How it comes, that you know that club? I thought you didn’t like dancing at all.  
**GTT:** The owner is an old friend of mine. And I was there a few times, for a nice chat with my friend and a drink... and well, then I needed to dance. It’s just open on Thursday, Friday and Saturday – we could go for a drink, and after that... for a dance to that club.  
**MB:** Oh, great... you haven’t forgot your promise. :-) I would love to go for a drink and for a dance with you.  
**GTT:** ;-) I’m a smart guy... and I remember me, that you wanted me to wear my glasses. I will do that. :-). Do you know the Bassoon Bar? It’s near the Thames.  
**MB:** Great, I’m looking forward to all your promises. ;-) ... Yeah, I know that bar, it’s a really elegant hotel bar, with live music. When do you want to meet, which time? :-)  
**GTT:** Exactly! 8 o’clock? Is that okay for you? Are you allowed to be outdoors that late? :-D  
**MB:** It’s fine with me. :-D. And your question after my age was smart. ;-). I’m 39, so I’m allowed to stay away the whole night.  
**GTT:** Was it that obvious? :-D. And I told you, I am the grandpa. I’m 44.  
**MB:** It was. ;-). I’m looking forward to our date, old Tintin. ;-). I will await you eagerly.  
**GTT:** I can’t hardly wait to see you. I will be there a bit earlier, so just asked for Tintin.  
**MB:** I will. And I hope that this week will pass by as fast as possible.  
**MB:** The old lady from my house needs my help. I’m sorry Tintin. I’m looking forward – next Friday, 8 o’clock, Bassoon Bar, I will ask for Tintin.  
**GTT:** It’s okay - help that lady. I’m looking forward too, you can’t imagine how much.  
**MB:** See you. :-)  
**GTT:** See you. :-)  
_MisterBee is offline._  
\----------------------------------------

John couldn’t believe his luck, he was so happy about the fact that they would meet in a week. And he was truly happy that they both were living in London.  
And he can’t believe his eyes and ears when he was back at 221B Baker Street. The kitchen was cleaned up, and the fridge was filled with food and milk.  
“I wasn’t bored, I wanted to do you a favour.” Sherlock had said.


	13. MisterBee is getting ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's getting ready, as MisterBee, as himself.  
> He's nervous and there is a wish in his mind, a wish he doesn't want to think about too much.

**A little pic for your imagination**

**<http://www.corinthia.com/globalassets/london/restaurants/780x330/chl-bassoon-780x330.jpg?id=17207> **

 

 

**\- Friday, June/3 - 2016, early evening, London, 221B Baker Street, Sherlock’s bedroom -**

Today was the day. Today, Sherlock would meet the man he was chatting with – for 155 days now.

He entered his bedroom, with just a towel around his hips. He had been in the shower the last half an hour. And now he needed to think about a good outfit.

Luckily, how he was, John wasn’t at home right now. His flatmate and best friend, and to be honest his crush, was at work. And after his work, he would go out for a drink, so god knows, when he would be at home. Which was in a way, really good.  
He had answered John’s text this afternoon, just with 'fine'. It was fine, probably he would go for a drink with some of his colleagues. Really, it was fine, and he hadn’t told him that he would go out as well. He had never been out since he knew John. Not one time, despite the fact it was for an undercover mission.

Fine, - what was he telling himself. It wasn’t really fine. It wasn’t fine, that John was going out for a drink, while he had a crush on him and was hoping that his Tintin guy, would turn out as John. In a way, he really hoped that this was John. But he didn’t want to think about it too much, he didn’t want to be disappointed later; this guy was just too kind and smart and nice and charming and funny.  
And there was no chance that this was in fact John.

John hasn’t played rugby in his school years – at least, he hadn’t deduced that.

John didn’t wear glasses - neither he had seen contact lenses and all that stuff, nor glasses.

John didn’t have tattoos. - They had talked about tattoos during a case, a long time ago, before he was ‘dead’ for two years. And he had told John, that he didn’t like tattoos at all and John had just shrugged with his shoulders and had said, that he didn’t care about that. John would have told him that, or at least, he would have seen a piece of that tattoo. Tintin had described it a bit, and both tattoos seemed to be big. He needed to admit, that he liked tattoos now – now, in context of a smart and nice and probably good looking man with glasses.

John wasn’t gay. - That was probably the biggest argument. He was just dating woman. And he wouldn’t set up an online profile on a dating website for gay/lesbian/bi people. Every time someone said that he was gay, he was complaining that he isn’t gay. Sherlock knew, John didn’t care if someone is gay – he wasn’t quite sure if John knew that his own best friend is gay.

But their friendship had become closer and deeper in the last months. Maybe that was the reason, he thought he would have a crush on John.

In the end, he was absolutely sure, that he had fallen in love with the guy he had been chatting with the last 155 days. Slowly, each day a bit more, and then out of a sudden, this man had stolen his heart.  
He felt good with him, even if they hadn’t met until now. But he felt very good during their writing. He felt comfortable and relaxed, he felt happy and at home, and he knew, with him, he could just be truly himself.  
He was missing him, even so they hadn’t met until now.

Sherlock sighed, he tousled through is hair, which was a bit shorter than usual. He had been in a barber shop this afternoon; and now, his curls didn’t cover his ears any longer.  
He needed to clear his mind, so that he would be able to concentrate on his outfit tonight.  
His gaze scanned all the things in his dresser and his wardrobe.

His arms were crossed in front of his chest, he was biting his lips and thinking about the best outfit. Tintin was a cheeky devil, a smart and funny man; a bit of a bad boy, a little rowdy and brawler. He had played rugby and he describes himself as lazy sometimes. So probably, he was a man, who liked casual clothes. The question was, if he liked men in casual clothes or if he liked men in suits and shirts, or if he maybe didn’t give a shit on it. Probably the last one, Tintin had never asked anything about his fashion style.  
The Bassoon Bar, was a place for at least slightly elegant outfits, so he couldn’t go with just a white T-Shirt and his leather jacket and a dark or bright jeans. But on the other hand, he didn’t want to go with his purple shirt or a suit. It was too much, they wanted to go in a dancing club afterwards.

He nearly got insane.  
He was just absolutely nervous.  
He hadn’t had a date since a really long time; his last relationship was in his university days, and it had ended a bit not good. After that he had had a few guys just for a one night stand. No dates, no relationships. And then he had had his drug days and a while after that he had met John.  
And after that last relationship he had decided to cut off his feelings, to not get hurt anymore. So he hadn’t wanted a date or relationship anyway. Or to be honest, he had pretended to not want that – in front of anybody, including himself and his heart.  
He needed to calm down a bit.  
He needed to dress and to make his hair and he needed to drive to the bar; he hadn’t time to freak out.

But he freaked out; he rifled through all his clothes; he put on 8 different shirts, 6 different trousers, a light sweater with a cardigan, a T-Shirt with a cardigan, 5 different jackets. And he tried all this in different combinations.  
Just to dress himself with a navy blue Polo-Shirt and a dark blue jeans, with black, good shoes in the end.  
The first button of the Polo-Shirt was open; the dark blue jeans were tight in the right amount, and showed off his luscious butt very well. And the black shoes completed his whole outfit.  
He wouldn’t take a jacket with him, it was still warm enough.

Back in the bathroom, he looked at him in the mirror.  
His hair was tousled, and normally he didn’t use a product for his hair. But this wasn’t a normal situation.  
He looked around and searched for John’s hair product, but it was gone.  
Sherlock cursed for a few seconds, until he remembered that the barber had coaxed him to buy one of his hair products.  
He went back to his room, took the bag from the dresser and pulled out the outrageous expensive tube.  
And then he went back to the bathroom to style his hair a bit. He washed his hands afterwards.

The last thing he did in the flat was taking the present for Tintin.  
In front of 221B Baker Street stood a cab which was waiting for him, he had ordered it a few hours ago, for now.  
He got in and bent forward.  
“Bassoon Bar.”  
“Alright sir.” The cabbie smiled.

Sherlock leaned back. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down his heartbeat, which was on full speed.  
He really looked forward to Tintin and that evening, to their drinks and the dancing, and maybe the night.  
But as much as he looked forward to it, it made him nervous.  
And the fifteen-minutes cab ride to the bar, wasn’t enough to calm down properly.

To be honest, after he had paid the cabbie, and he stood in front of the building, he was even more nervous.  
He took a few deep breathes, and opened the door to the huge an elegant bar.

There was a huge bar, armchairs, sofas, stools, tables, a piano – all in a cozy black and cream décor. And a soft light was roaming around, as well as soft live music.

He had never been here, but it was - just perfect; he liked it really much – it was love at first sight.

He took a deep breath and went to the bar, he needed to ask for Tintin.  
He looked to the tall man behind the bar and smiled.  
“What can I do for you, Sir.” The man smiled.  
“I’m here to meet someone. He said, I shall ask for Tintin.”  
“Date?” The bartender grinned softly.  
“Um... yes.” Sherlock answered truthfully.  
“Met my husband online, too. But he didn’t take me out to such a nice place for our first date. You’re really lucky, Sir.”  
“Well, I hope he’s as nice as this place.” Sherlock said, and that little chat calmed him down a bit.  
“I’m sure he is. He’s already here, since ten or fifteen minutes.” The man smiled again. And then he leaned in and pointed in a special direction. “Do you see that guy over there, on the couch? He bent down and read... probably the card right now. The guy with the grey hair and the light blue button up shirt.” The bartender said nicely.  
Sherlock nodded.

He looked to his date, to the grey-haired man, with the light blue button-up shirt, who was waiting for him.


	14. GrumpyTintin has a wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's at work; he's nervous, looks forward to MisterBee, but a deeply and huge wish of his heart, makes him a bit fearful.

**\- Friday, June/3 - 2016, early evening, London, St. Barts, A &E, lunch room -  
**

John was standing in the lunch room with a cup of tea; he was looking out of the window, watched all the people, who were wandering around – people from the hospital, patients from the clinic, visitors, and people, who maybe will be patients.  
He was drinking his tea to calm down a bit.  
Tonight, he would have a date with his buzzing bee.  
He was nervous and excited at the same time, he could hardly wait to see him, to finally see his buzzing bee, his pirate, the man he fell in love with over the time of their texting.

He was truly and deeply in love with that guy, even so, they had never met, never see each others face, never heard each others voice.  
All he knew was, that this guy cheered him up immediately; that he was very cute and kind and nice and funny; that he makes him laugh and grin and smile; that he was interested in his life, his personality, his hobbies; that he makes his heart beat very fast; that he was able to make his stomach and his whole body tingle; that he was able to make him feel warm and cozy.

In half an hour his shift would be over, and then he would shower in the clinic and getting ready here.  
He had taken a new button up shirt with him, a trouser, shoes, his hair product – he was prepared.  
Jesus, maybe he was a bit too prepared - in his wallet was a condom.  
He tousled his own hair.  
But he knew, he wouldn’t mind. To be honest, he would love to have sex with this guy, if he was as nice and cute as in his texts, then he wouldn’t miss the chance.

“John?”  
John turned his head around, and smiled.  
“Mary, hey. Is there a patient for me?”  
“No, I just didn’t want to scare you.” She smiled, and took a mug and some coffee. And after that, she closed the door. “So, date-night tonight. I told you, you would meet someone nice there.” She smiled more, and came to him.  
“Great, so I’m able to just drink my tea. I’m done for today, if I’m honest. I wouldn’t mind if there isn’t another patient for me today.” John smiled. He leaned against the window. “Yeah, date tonight... and yes, you told me that before. Jesus, I’m fucking nervous.”  
“We’re just hiding here.” She grinned, and get a grin from John as well. “What would be the worst that could happen tonight?”  
“Um, well, when he’s not the person, he was during the texting. You know, if he would be cruel or... don’t know,... if he wouldn’t be nice and kind and funny. I don’t care about his look, as long as he’s neat and tidy.” John smiled.

Mary nodded and patted his upper arm with her free hand.  
“What will you wear tonight?”  
“A button up shirt.”  
“Oh come on, John. A bit more information. I’m a woman. What trouser, which colour... and so on.” She smirked.  
John grinned and twirled his tea cup.  
“I will wear a light blue button up shirt, and a navy blue trouser and fitting shoes for that. And the glasses will stay tonight. He wanted to see me with the glasses.”  
“That sounds nice. Oh, your glasses, I love your glasses; you really should wear them more often. I hope, that guy will tell you the same thing.” She smiled.  
“Thank you, Mary.” John smiled flattered.  
“And... prepared for the night?” She smirked.  
“Bloody hell, Mary!”  
“What?! You guys are texting since almost half a year. Come on, I knew you are prepared for everything tonight.”  
“Why are you asking, when you know it, anyway.” John grinned with flushed cheeks.

Mary laughed and shrugged her shoulders. She looked around and thought of a new question.  
“Okay, John... so, I will ask something else. What would be the best, that could happen tonight?”  
John looked at her and then into his cup. He sighed and twirled the cup, again.  
“I... I would love... that this guy is Sherlock. My hope or wish... for tonight is, that Sherlock will come to this date.” He looked up to her again.  
Mary looked puzzled.  
“What? I thought you were in love with this guy.”  
“I know. I am. It's confusing, isn't it? And then there is this big crush on Sherlock. And you know, he changed, he’s more chatty, and nice and funny, he’s a bit like that guy... and well, he said, that he’s tall and slender and especially since this morning, my head puts Sherlock’s face on that guy’s face. I really would love, if Sherlock would be like that guy. And well, my heart hopes this a bit too much, since that morning. I’m afraid, that I’m really disappointed, when it’s not Sherlock, even if this guy is... well, almost perfect. Does it make sense?”  
“Wow,... well, I think, I know what you mean. Do you think it could be Sherlock?”  
“No. No, I don’t think so. I just know, that I would love that mixture. Yeah? Um, that sulking, rude and show-off Sherlock, with that kindness and cuteness, and that funny side and that attentive side.”  
“Don’t think too much about it John. Just enjoy that evening, with that lovely guy; whoever it is, I think he will make you really happy.”  
“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t think too much about it. Whoever it is, I think, I will have a really great evening.” John smiled.

He looked around and into his cup. He took the last sip.  
“I think, I should write that report, before my shift is over. Are you coming with me?” He smiled.  
Mary smiled and nodded.  
“Yes, I’m right with you.”

 

Half an hour later, he was standing in the shower. The warm water ran down his body, and his hand ran through his hair. His heart was beating, his stomach tingling, when he thought about tonight, and about all these lovely mails and texts, about all these lovely words.  
He was getting more and more nervous with each passing minute.

After his shower, he dried himself and his hair as much as possible. He went to the changing room and put on his black boxer briefs and his black socks. After that the navy blue cloth trousers, and then he slipped into his light blue button-up shirt. He buttoned it up, the first button stayed open.  
He took a deep breath and slipped into his shoes.  
And then he took the towel and rubbed through his hair until it was dry.  
He used his hair product, to make a fluffy swoosh, and used a bit of perfume.  
He closed his cupboard, took his bag and went out of the clinic.

 

John hired a cab and drove to the Bassoon Bar.  
His heart nearly freaked out.  
After a few deep breathes, he entered the bar and went to the guy, who was standing behind the bar.  
“Hey. Could you do me a favour?”  
“Yes, of course, Sir.”  
“I’m appointed with someone, if he’s asking for Tintin, that’s me.” John smiled.  
“Okay, I will send him to you, Sir.” The bartender smiled back.  
John nodded friendly and searched for a nice place to sit.

John chose one of the sofas. He sat down and put his bag next to him on the ground.  
He licked his lips and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.  
His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, while he was taking deep breathes.  
He couldn’t decide if he was more nervous, or more excited, because he would finally meet him in a few minutes. Probably, it was both on the same level.  
As nervous as he was, as happy he was to meet him, to meet him in 10 minutes. He would have the night of his life, if this guy was, like he was in his mails and texts.  
He opened his eyes again.

John’s hand ran through his hair, he adjusted his big black-framed glasses and licked his lips.  
He couldn’t remember one date, where he had had that mixture of feelings.  
Nervousness. Happiness. Excitement. A fast beating heart. A tingling stomach, that almost freaked out. A warm feeling in every fibre of his body. Pure luck.  
His eyes beamed with a deep, soft and warm blue. He was smiling to himself.

He couldn’t believe that he had met a man like his lovely pirate on the internet.  
His right foot drummed on the floor.  
He needed a distraction, he couldn’t look the whole time at the door like a psychopath.  
He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair again, adjusted his glasses again, and scratched across his stubble on the cheek.  
Maybe a shave would have been good?  
It was too late now.  
And what should he say, or do? A kiss, a hug, just hand shaking?  
Distraction, he needed a distraction.

He looked around and saw the menu and drinks card on the coffee table in front of him.  
He bent down and opened the card and began to read.


	15. A Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally MisterBee meets GrumpyTintin - and two wishes at once come true.

**\- Friday, June/3 - 2016, 8 o'clock in the evening, London, Bassoon Bar -**

Sherlock had been just too nervous as he looked at the man with the light blue button up shirt, that he didn’t notice that it actually was John.  
He thanked the bartender and made his way through the bar, to that lovely guy, that was waiting for him.  
He smiled and his heart was beating a nice, warm rhythm.  
And as he stood in front of the little coffee table, the sofa and that man, he took a deep breath.  
“Tintin.” He said in his most warm and deep voice.

The man took a deep breath as well as he heard that deep voice; he lifted his head, and while he was doing that, he already began to talk.  
“Oh, my pira... ” He broke off in mid-sentence.  
His eyes went big and his mouth hung open. And now his heart was beating even more.  
Sherlock’s mouth hung open as well, he looked at John with the same confusion and irritation. And his heart was beating even more, as well as his stomach tingled even more.  
John.  
John, with his grey hair, styled in a fluffy swoosh; blue eyes beamed in confusion, through the big black-frame glasses; a stubble on his cheeks, around his open mouth, on his chin, his jaw; a button up shirt in a light blue, the first button was open and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows; a navy blue cloth trousers.  
And John scanned him.  
Him, with his new shorter haircut, his for the first time styled hair; his confused piercing light green eyes; his shaved skin, his open mouth; his dark blue polo shirt, the first button open as well; the tight dark blue jeans.

John swallowed.  
“... pi... pirate... I wanted to say... pirate... “ John stuttered, and licked his lips. “Sherlock.” He murmured as warmly as Sherlock’s Tintin had been.  
“John... “ Sherlock said in surprise.  
“Wow... um. Jesus. I... I don’t know what to say. Um, well, maybe it would be good, to say, that you can sit down.” He looked up and slid a bit to the left.  
Sherlock watched him and took a deep breath. He came to him and sat down.  
“Thanks.” Sherlock said.  
“Yeah, you’re welcome.” John’s face showed a soft smile now. “What do you want to drink?”  
“What?”  
“Well, we’re in a bar and it’s our date, and I invited you,... so I ask you, what do you want to drink? I’ve waited for you, I didn’t want to order, before you’re here. I didn’t know what you would like.” John smiled even more.  
Sherlock blinked a few times.  
“Um, yes, yes. I’m a bit surprised,... no I’m totally surprised. I think, I took a Gin Tonic.”

John smiled at him.  
He turned his head and looked through the big room. One of the waiters stood at the bar. John raised his hand. The waiter caught his gaze and the hand, and walked to him. He had been here a few minutes ago, but John hadn’t ordered.  
“Sir?” He smiled.  
“So, the guy I waited for is here. Um, we took a Gin Tonic and a Whiskey.”  
“Okay, I’m right back, Sir.” The man smiled.

John turned his head around to Sherlock, who smiled now as much as John.  
“Um. I’ve promised you a present, a few months ago. I haven’t wrapped it, I’m sorry.” He handed John the gift.  
John looked at him and then down to the gift. And his mouth hung open again.  
“Bloody Hell! It’s the original edition of Tintin – The Secret of the Unicorn!” John took it and his eyes beamed down at it. His fingers caressed across the cover. “Wow... that’s. I’m speechless.” He said, and raised his head. His eyes beamed in Sherlock's eyes.  
“You said, it’s the only one you haven’t the original edition of. So, I searched for it.”  
John beamed at him, he laid the comic onto the coffee table. His right hand cupped Sherlock’s cheek, he leaned in and gave Sherlock’s left cheek a soft and warm kiss, the frame of his glasses touched Sherlock’s skin as well.  
“Thank you for that.” John murmured into Sherlock’s ear.  
He leaned back, the thumb caressed above Sherlock's cheek, softly back and forth.  
He took his hand slowly off of Sherlock's cheek, who looked delighted. The eyes were beaming to John.  
“Um. You’re welcome... Tintin.” He smiled widely. “He’s a bit like a mixture of us, isn’t he? I mean he’s writing about crimes, so that’s you; and I’ve had a dog and solve crimes... and we both get involved into adventures.”  
“Yeah, that’s true,... he seemed to be a mixture of us.” John smiled softly.

Sherlock’s heart still raced like mad. That soft kiss on his cheek had felt amazing. He still could literally feel Johns soft lips on his cheek.  
He wanted to say something, but the waiter came again – this time with the Gin Tonic and the Whiskey. He watched John, who looked up to him, smiled a friendly smile and thanked him.  
John turned his head again to Sherlock.  
“Before we clink glasses, I have bought something for you, too.” John smiled.  
Sherlock looked at him; John smiled and leaned down to his bag.  
“It wasn’t necessary.”  
“It’s not that I have searched for it, I just found it, when I was in a bookstore yesterday.” John said, and pulled the book out of the bag, he sat up again and handed Sherlock the book. “Um... well, that’s for your dream when you’re old and grey... buzzing bee.” John winked softly and smiled charmingly.  
Sherlock bowed his head, and his stomach tingled nicely at the wink and that smile. He couldn’t have imagine someone better than John tonight.  
He smiled and looked down to the book title.  
“The Beekeepers Bible... ” Sherlock murmured.  
He swallowed; he was speechless, that gesture touched him deeply. His thumb stroked across the book cover. He raised his head, his eyes were beaming. And this time, it was Sherlock, who cupped John’s cheek, leaned in and kissed his slightly scratchy cheek with a soft and tender kiss. And it was Sherlock, who murmured gentle words into John’s ear.  
“Thank you... “ He couldn’t and he didn’t want to hide the fact that he was touched in his voice.  
John closed his eyes and breathed him in.

Sherlock sat back and laid his new book to Johns Tintin comic onto the coffee table.  
John beamed at him.  
He took the two glasses and handed Sherlock the Gin Tonic. He raised his Whiskey.  
“A nice date-night.” He smiled truly happily.  
“A nice date-night.” Sherlock repeated with a big smile.  
They clinked glasses and took a sip.

Sherlock scanned John again.  
“I... don’t know where to begin. Um, well,... you should wear that glasses more often. You,... to be honest, you look really dashing with it. I really like them.”  
John smiled and twirled his glass.  
“Thanks Sherlock. Maybe I will; I mean, how could I not, after your lovely compliment.” John beamed. “You look really dashing as well; I appreciate that casual look, you should wear it more often, it really suits you – the polo shirt, as well as these jeans.” John smiled, and he rubbed across Sherlock thigh.  
Sherlock smiled widely.  
“Thanks John.”  
John winked.  
“And... had you been by the barber because of our date, tonight?” He smiled charmingly.  
Sherlock flushed.  
“Yes,... I thought, well, something new, after all these years.”  
“It looks great, really. I really like it.” John beamed to his hair and then back to his eyes.

Sherlock smiled at him, he was flattered. He slipped into a more comfortable position.  
“So... John Watson, what about your tattoos?” Sherlock winked. John’s boyish, cheeky, gentleman behavior had made him really cozy, relaxed and cozy.  
“Ohh, the tattoos.” John smirked. “We didn’t want to talk about it.” He winked. “You know, I’ve promised you the glasses and the dancing... and I promised you, that you’re allowed to explore them, if you’re as nice and lovely as the last months.”  
“And it’s still like that?” Sherlock smiled.  
“Oh yeah, it is.” John smiled as well. He laid his free arm on the back rest and his fingers caressed across Sherlock’s upper arm.  
Sherlock smiled and took another sip from his glass.  
“I will be more lovely and nice and funnier than in our texts tonight, so that I am allowed to explore more than just your tattoos.” He winked.  
“That’s more than welcome.” John grinned cheekily.

John licked and bit his lips, his fingers ran slowly under the fabric of Sherlock’s polo-shirt.  
“So, how it comes that you haven’t deduced, that you’re chatting and flirting with your flatmate, lovely genius?”  
Sherlock beamed, he was enjoying the flirting with John, and it was pretty easy with him.  
“I had shut off my skills. I just wanted to meet someone, who truly likes me, just like I am. Well, we talked about it, when you came back from your medical week in Cardiff. I got hurt really bad in the past, in my last relationship, and it was easier and less hurtful to shut off all feelings, all the love and that stuff, being a sociopath was easier. But as you said,... it didn’t make me happy, because the love was missing. It was always better to be on a case or playing mind games than being bored – you know, then you have time to think about yourself. And there’s a room in my mind palace, which is really dark, and I don’t like this room, and that evening, you pushed me into it... with your true words. It’s like you said. I would love to be loved and to love someone. It was easier to do all that online... with that lovely, grumpy Tintin. It was our deal not to reveal too much, so I hold back my skills.” Sherlock said in a soft voice.

John looked at him with a bowed head, his fingers crawled Sherlock’s bare skin on the upper arm, who seemed to enjoy it very much, goose bumps had spread across his arms, John could feel them.  
“Wow. Sherlock. You did all that to not get hurt? Jesus, Sherlock. You’re such a lovely and nice and funny man, you shouldn’t hold that back. Don’t let’s talk about that, tonight. It’s our date... and I have the impression we both would really like to enjoy it.”

Sherlock nodded.  
“It’s not the best conversation for a date.” Sherlock smiled. “May I ask a question?” He looked to John, who sipped at his Whiskey, smiled and nodded. And his crawling didn’t stop. Sherlock’s goose bumps stayed, as well as his fast beating heart and the nice, warm tingling. “Are you bisexual?”  
“I thought you knew that already. That’s why I haven’t said anything. I thought it wouldn’t be necessary.” John said irritated. He liked Sherlock’s bare skin, so he crawled him softly without stopping it.  
Sherlock shook his head.  
“No. I thought you would be straight, I mean there was never a man and you complained about not being gay.”  
John smiled.  
“So,... you as a gay man, should know, that there’s a difference.” John winked. “And well, I saw a lot of men during my army time... that sounds bad... you know what I mean. I thought a bit female presence would be good.”  
“Yes, I know. I just always assumed that you would be straight. Good to know, you’re not.” Sherlock smiled.

John winked with a cheeky smile.  
Sherlock winked as well and smiled softly. He laid his hand on John’s thigh, and his fingers crawled across the fabric.  
John swallowed. He put his glass down and slid a bit closer. His eyes closed for a brief moment, the caresses felt just too nice. He laid his second hand on Sherlock’s thigh.  
Sherlock bit his lip. He couldn’t say what he liked the most; just the fact that John was Tintin and that means his date; or Johns glasses; or his nice perfume; or the crawling on his upper arm; or the hand on his thigh. All these things made him goose bumps, all these things made him feel incredibly good.  
And those deep blue eyes beamed at him, as would he be the most amazing thing in the world.  
His heart was racing like mad, he had butterflies in his stomach, and he loved it. He didn’t want that these feelings disappeared.


	16. Date-Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John enjoying their time at the Bassoon Bar, with conversations, drinks and themselves.

**\- Friday, June/3 - 2016, London, Bassoon Bar -**

The live music was playing in the background, one could hear low chatty voices; it was a pleasant and cozy atmosphere. And the same atmosphere hovered between John and Sherlock.  
They had ordered a new round of drinks, the third round. The last half an hour they had chatted about the fact that they had texted which each other without knowing, and that they actually had been in the same room sometimes.

John’s one hand still lay on Sherlock's thigh, the other one lay under Sherlocks Polo Shirt on the upper arm, the fingers crawled the soft bare skin every now and then.  
And he enjoyed Sherlock’s hand on his thigh very much. Sherlock was drawing little circles on his thigh, and John could feel the goose bumps and the warm tingling in his body.  
He looked to Sherlock, who supported his temple on his fist, the elbow on the back rest of the sofa. And Sherlock’s eyes were beaming into John’s, he hadn’t took his eyes off, since they had started talking – just for four brief moments, when the waiter had asked for new drinks and had brought the new drinks. But while they talked, Sherlock’s eyes were just by him, nowhere else. John has the feeling to be the only person in that bar, at least, the only important person for Sherlock. And that was a great feeling, to know that Sherlock’s eyes, his ears, his whole attention lay just by him – that he was the only thing that matters tonight.

It was easy to chat with Sherlock, as easy as the texts and the emails. He loved it a lot.  
John beamed up to him, looked with his sparkling blue eyes through the glasses to Sherlock, who smiled back. 

Sherlock’s heart was racing and racing, again and again; John made it race every now and then, and he made him a tingling stomach, a tingling body, a warm feeling. He could sit here with John the whole night.  
It was just an hour ago, that they had found out that they had texted with each other over five months, but Sherlock had the feeling, they would just sit here for a few minutes. The time was running; he just enjoyed it very much.  
John had made him smile and grin and laugh in the last hour.  
And the goose bumps, he has from John’s crawling were more than welcome.  
The conversation was great and for him, John was the only person, the only thing that matters tonight. For now, in his world, just John and he himself existed.

They had changed their drinks. A red wine for Sherlock and a white wine for John, both glasses stood on the coffee table.  
John smiled and licked his lips; his fingertips drummed softly on Sherlock’s thigh.  
“Captain,... I’m curious, what was your pirate name, when you played pirates with Mycroft?”  
“Are you telling me your knight name?” Sherlock grinned.  
“Deal, Captain.” John grinned.  
“Okay,... well it was... Curly-William.”  
“Oh my god, that’s adorable – Captain Curly-William. That’s a sweet pirate name. Did you choose him, or Mycroft?”  
“It was Mycroft.” Sherlock grinned. “He hadn’t a pirate name, because he played different roles. You know, a pirate, and a slave and a victim, or an enemy.” Sherlock smiled. “Come on John, tell me your knight name.”  
“Well, my name,... it was Cheeky-Johnny.” John grinned.  
Sherlock laughed.  
“Oh, that’s suits you very well. And I can’t decide if it’s more cute or good for a laugh. Who gave you that name?”  
John laughed and pinched him softly into the upper arm.  
“Hey, don’t get cheeky.”  
“I wouldn’t dare Johnny,... it’s your part.” Sherlock grinned.

John grinned and patted Sherlock’s thigh.  
“Right. Um, a friend gave me that name. We will see him later, he’s the one with that dancing club. Oliver.”  
Sherlock smiled to him.  
“So,... you really want to go for a dance with me?”  
“Yes, I promised you that, and I keep my promises,... maybe I will discover the joy of dancing with you.”  
“You really don’t have to, John. That bar is really nice, and it was a great choice,... I would enjoy the evening without a dance."  
“No way! I want to see you dance.” John smiled. “So we’re enjoying our time here and go for a dance, it’s around the corner.”  
Sherlock smiled softly.  
“You want to see me dance that badly?”  
“Yes.” John grinned. “I mean you love to dance, and you told me that you have danced ballet in school. So, I really need to see you dancing.”

Sherlock took his hand from John’s thigh and reached out for John’s glass of wine and his own. He handed John the white wine.  
“Thanks.” John smiled and sipped.  
“You’re welcome.” Sherlock said, and sipped at his glass – they had already clinked glasses. “It’s now a bit embarrassing that I told you that.”  
“No, it’s not. It’s great. I mean, I can imagine that very well. I think, you were pretty good. Did you ever dance on a stage? Like, I don’t know, school events?”  
“Yes, I did, but not every time, I liked it more to do it on my own,... you know, without that stage thing.”  
“I would have loved to see it.” John smiled.  
“I thought you would laugh about me.” Sherlock smiled.  
“No, why should I? It’s a thing you love, you love to dance, so you danced ballet. I mean, it wouldn’t have been a hobby for me, because dancing isn’t really a hobby for me, but for you it is.” John smiled.

He looked at a smiling Sherlock. He leaned forward and took his glass of wine, leaned back and put both glasses down on the coffee table again.  
He needed more nearness. He needed to feel more from Sherlock.  
John leaned to Sherlock again, he slipped closer; his hand slid out of the Polo Shirt, across Sherlock’s shoulder, above the neck and into the soft hair. He leaned his cheek against Sherlock’s and closed his eyes.  
His lips breathed across Sherlock’s ear.  
“I bet you looked great in that ballet outfit. Had it been tight pants?”

Sherlock’s heart pounded like mad. He could feel their thighs, which touched; he could feel John’s squeezing hand on his thigh; he could feel John’s scratchy cheek and the lips, which touched his ear during the talking; he could feel John’s finger in his hair; he could feel the glasses.  
He closed his eyes as well, and he lowered his hand, wrapped the arm around John’s shoulder. The cheek touched John’s cheek and the glasses. And the hand on John’s thigh stroked to the hip.  
“Yes, tight pants. But, I bet you looked gorgeous in your rugby clothes... cheeky devil.” Sherlock breathed with a flirty voice.  
“Oh, you betcha, my buzzing bee.” John said with a charming, flirty voice.  
“Dirty, small John in shorts and a sports shirt. I would have watched every game.” Sherlock murmured with his deep voice. “So, in which position played my lovely doctor?”

John had goose bumps on his whole body, that voice was like music, and that body like a warm and soft blanket.  
“Your lovely doctor had been captain of the rugby team.” He whispered and kissed Sherlock’s ear.  
Sherlock shivered.  
“Oh, really? So you had been a rugby captain and an army captain.” Sherlock’s deep voice murmured, and his lips kissed John’s jaw line near the ear.  
John bit his lips, he played with Sherlock’s hair, who made a deep purr sound into his ear.  
“Yeah. But you’re a captain too, a pirate captain.” John smiled and kissed Sherlock’s cheek.  
“But I’m lost without my knight, totally lost.” Sherlock murmured back, and kissed John’s cheek and the temple softly and gently.  
“Sometimes the knight is lost without you.”

Sherlock smiled softly, his nose rubbed across John’s ear.  
“Probably, just when you didn’t wear contact lenses or these nice glasses.”  
John shivered, his hand on Sherlock’s thigh stroked to the hip and on Sherlock’s spine, and pressed him closer.  
“Are you obsessed with my glasses.” John asked with a teasing and flirting voice.  
“I’m already totally obsessed with them. I never saw them before... or contact lenses.”  
He kissed John’s ear witha tender breath and broke apart - just a bit. His arm was still wrapped around John’s shoulder, the other hand lay on his hip.

John smiled at him, with delighted and beaming blue eyes. He looked a bit dizzy, almost overwhelmed by the lovely caresses and kisses and words of Sherlock. One could literally see the beating heart and the butterflies in the stomach.  
“They are in my bedroom, in my bedside drawer, sneaky genius.” He sparkled and flirted.  
“Now you know, I never sneaked in your bedside drawer.” Sherlock flirted back. “What would I find there?”  
“And you never sneaked into the box onto my wardrobe,... there are the Tintin comics.” He smiled lovely. “In my drawer? Oh Jesus, um, you would find... the stuff for the contact lenses and the stuff for my glasses.” John smiled, and played with Sherlock's hair. “Oh, and you would find the bee book, a charger and... ” John raised his eyebrow. “... you would find lube.” John winked.  
Sherlock licked his lips.  
“Oh,... a book, a charger and lube would you find in my drawer as well.” Sherlock winked.

They bit their lips and swallowed.  
Sherlock's hand slid on John’s cheek, the thumb caressed the lightly scratchy skin.  
John’s hand stroked down Sherlock's nape, along his shoulder. He raised the hand and ran it through Sherlock's styled, soft and dark hair, down to his cheek; the thumb breathed across Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock swallowed, as John licked his lips and John’s gaze flickered to his lips and back into his eyes.  
John swallowed as well, his hand slid down on Sherlock’s chest, downwards to his stomach.  
He raised his arm again, laid the arm on the back rest of the sofa and let his other hand slid on Sherlock’s thigh again.  
“Tell... tell me, about... I mean, tell me more childhood stories,... I love them.” He stuttered, and bit his lips.  
Had it been too early?  
Had it been the right and perfect moment for a kiss?  
He was insecure.

Sherlock licked his lips and bit them. His hand slid down to John’s thigh again.  
And his other arm slid on the back rest of the sofa as well. The fingers breathed across John’s light blue shirt, across the bare skin on the forearm. He laid his arm on John's, his hand on John’s shoulder.  
The hand on the thigh, slid to John’s on his own thigh.  
He entwined their fingers, slowly and gently – laid their hands into his lap.

And then he opened his mouth to tell John more cute and funny childhood stories.


	17. I owe you a dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three hours in the Bassoon Bar, they walk to the dance club, to enjoy the rest of the night.

**\- Saturday, June/4 - 2016, London, Bassoon Bar/Dance Club -**

John sipped at his new white wine and grinned to Sherlock, who was begging with his glass of red wine in his right hand.  
“Oh come on John, in the last hour I’ve told you a lot of cute and funny childhood stories, it’s your turn.” Sherlock begged again, he was laughing.  
“I like it when you beg.” John grinned, when he had swallowed the wine.  
“You let me beg since ten minutes... just because you enjoy it?” Sherlock grinned.  
“Do you want to hear the truth?” John grinned.  
“Of course.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, with an amused face.  
“I’ve just let you beg, because I fucking enjoy it.” John grinned. “Of course I will tell you one of the stories.” He put the glass down again.

Sherlock smirked and put his glass next to Johns, who ran his thumb across Sherlock's hand.  
Sherlock smiled to him broadly, leaned back again, and when John leaned back as well, he put his hand slowly on John’s thigh again.  
John smiled as well, he laid his arm on the back rest of the sofa again, let his hand slide under the sleeve of the Polo Shirt.  
“You’re unbelievable. That’s more than just cheeky.” Sherlock grinned.  
“Shut up, love... “ John said without thinking. They looked at each other with bowed heads. John bit his lip and licked it afterwards. Sherlock just smiled, with a tingling stomach. “Well, um. So just prick up your ears.” John smiled softly.  
Sherlock smiled widely and nodded – his eyes sparkled to John.  
John smiled at him gently, his stomach was tingling, too – and the wide smile of Sherlock and his sparkling eyes, let his stomach tingle even more.  
“Okay, when I was three years old, my family and I went to the Netherlands... for vacation.”  
“It’s already cute.” Sherlock interrupted him. “Just by the thought of a three year old tiny, small John.” Sherlock’s eyes sparkled happily.

Since the whole date, he looked very interested in John, his childhood, his interests, the stories he has to tell – and he was very chatty with his own things as well. And John seemed to enjoy it very much. Since the whole date, he has been interested as well, and he smiled like a maniac, the eyes were beaming and sparkling. And Sherlock really loved that reaction to his chatty and listening side. And he had enjoyed the little kisses really much; John’s soft lips, the scratchy stubble, the warm breath – and he knew John had enjoyed the kisses he had gotten back.

“Yeah, I was tiny, with bright blonde hair.” John grinned. “Okay, so we were on vacation at the sea and there was a playground with a long tunnel slide. And I was a bit afraid, I didn’t want to slide alone, so my mother agreed to come with me. But she sat me down at first and it was too near to the edge, so I slid down alone, landing in the sand on my butt. I wasn’t really satisfied, and when my mum came down the slide, she smiled at me, and I slapped her in the face and wiped her sunglasses to the ground. I was a bit grumpy.” John pinched Sherlock softly. “Stop laughing!” John laughed.

“That’s rude, you can’t slap your mum... but it’s funny.” Sherlock laughed.  
“She let me slide down on my own. That was rude as well.” John grinned.  
“I would have comforted you.” Sherlock winked.  
“You weren’t born when I was three years old, young bee.” John winked and smiled.  
Sherlock squeezed John’s thigh.  
“I just wanted to say something nice, old Tintin.” Sherlock smirked.

John smirked with him. He felt Sherlock’s hand on his thigh, caressing to his hip, his side, to his back. And then he felt Sherlock’s crawling fingers on his lower back. He needed to swallow, then he licked his lips, and he actually had wanted to suppress the goose bumps and the shivering, but it felt too great – and so, goose bumps spread all over his body and he needed to shiver in pure relish.  
He looked to Sherlock, who watched him with a soft smile and knowing, gentle eyes – he didn’t stop the crawling.

John bit his lip.  
He really enjoyed the crawling and the silence, just Sherlock’s smile and his soft eyes, but the dance club wasn’t open the whole night, and he had promised to dance with Sherlock, and to be honest, he wanted to see him dance and he really wanted to dance with him; in a way, he really looked forward to the dancing, although he wasn’t much into dancing.  
“Are you still enjoying our date.” John asked softly, and with a beating heart.  
“Very much.” Sherlock beamed.  
“Then, I won’t bring you home now, but I would love to pay here and take you to the dance club.” John smiled. “I still owe you a dance.”  
“I’m fine with that, even though I really like that bar and our conversations. We... we need to come back to that bar, someday.” Sherlock smiled with his dark voice.  
“Would love to.” John returned the smile, and winked charmingly.

He could still feel the soft crawling, his fast heartbeat, his tingling stomach and the goose bumps. He turned a bit around and looked after some of the waiters; when he caught someone’s gaze, he made a gesture, that he wanted to pay.  
A few moments later, the waiter, who had served them the whole evening came to them.  
The waiter smiled and reached John a bill, which said 67,50 £.  
John handed him 70 £.  
“It’s fine by that.”  
“Thank you, Sir.” He nodded, and said goodbye.

Sherlock looked to John, who stood up.  
“We could have split it.”  
John reached the hand down to him.  
“Don’t be ridiculous Sherlock. I’ve invited you to a date, so I’m paying. Don’t worry about that. I want to have a great night with you, let’s just enjoy that. Everything is fine. Come on, I want to dance with you.” John smiled widely.  
Sherlock smiled at John, then to John’s little hand, and he laid his big one into it.  
John helped him up, squeezed Sherlock’s hand and broke the contact.  
They left the bar, and the bartender winked knowingly at Sherlock.

 

Together, they strolled a few minutes through the streets of London, until John stopped in front of an unremarkable club sign and club door. He held the door open for Sherlock, who went in and downstairs.

One could hear the loud music; one could feel the sticky, warm air; one could see young adults, adults and much older people.  
It was quite dark, a few nice lamps and lights were burning, and the bar was lightened up in a nice and warm colour.  
There were much more women than men, probably because women loved it more to dance. A few people were standing at the bar, talking, drinking, whipping in the rhythm of the music.  
John leaned in, dragged Sherlock a bit down to him.  
“Normally, the men are supposed to dance with the women, I think you can see, the amount of women, and normally they catch a man like you for the whole night, to have a good dance... but I’m not willing to give you to any of these women, not tonight.” John said loudly, into Sherlock’s ear.  
“I haven’t understood a word John.” Sherlock said loudly.  
“It’s fine, Sherlock. Just dance with me tonight.”  
“Oh, that was better. Yes, I just dance with you tonight. I think, I will like that club.”  
John smiled, he had understood all of it, but he didn’t answer with words, he just kissed Sherlock’s cheek softly.

At first he dragged him to the bar, they needed to get rid of their presents for each other.  
A woman smiled to him.  
“John, great to see you.” She nearly screamed. “Do you want to see Oliver?”  
“Great to see you, Amelia... not necessarily. Could you just take this one and... “ He smiled to Sherlock, and took the beekeeping book. “And that one, we fetch them up, when we leave.”  
Amelia smiled and took the two books.  
“Alright. Have fun you two.” She smiled widely.  
“Thanks.” John screamed with a smile.  
Sherlock smiled to the woman as well, he hadn’t understood her name.

John dragged him smilingly to the dance floor.  
At the moment they played music to dance with each other.  
John was excited, as well as Sherlock – he was beaming like never before. And that made John smile even wider.  
They got in a dance position.  
“Are you ready?” Sherlock smiled, his voice was loud.  
John smiled and nodded.

And then he was twirled around the dance floor.  
Sherlock moved very professional and elegant, with a great rhythm and the right amount of ease. He beamed the whole time, and one could see that he has the fun and joy of his life.  
John enjoyed it very much, and they had a great harmony, from the first second. There wasn’t a moment of strangeness, it just harmonized immediately.  
Anyway, John was happy, when there was a song for a slow dance. He was out of breath, his cheeks were red from the dancing.  
Sherlock pressed him more against his body, he leaned down, during the smoothly dancing.  
“I wouldn’t have thought that you are that good.” He said into John’s ear.  
“Thanks for the compliment. It’s not that I can’t dance... it’s just the joy of it. But I really enjoy it with you.” John said.  
“I enjoyed it as well.” Sherlock said, and twirled John around on the spot, right into his arms again.  
John beamed up to him.  
“Are you showing off, or are you just that good? Jesus, you’re a bloody awesome dancer.”  
“I’m just the bloody awesome dancer, without showing off.” Sherlock grinned, and moved smoothly with John.

John smiled up, pressed his body against Sherlock’s during the slow dance. And it was a quite nice feeling, to feel that slightly muscly, slender body against his own.  
Sherlock pulled him a bit closer, one hand lay on John’s lower back, the other one, held John’s hand. And John’s hand lay on Sherlock’s shoulder blade.  
John closed his eyes, and he felt Sherlock’s hand sliding downwards - the hand slid on his buttock. He swallowed hard, and he enjoyed it very much. It was good to feel Sherlock’s hand on his bum.  
And his hand pressed Sherlock closer, when Sherlock kissed his cheek and his ear.  
His pulsed raced upwards like mad, and his blood rushed downwards – and in a way he was happy, that this slow dance was over a few seconds later, otherwise he would have had a massive erection in the middle of a dance floor, because of a few soft and tender kisses on his cheek and ear, and a hand, which had grabbed his arse gently – and because of that body, he was pressed against, and the warm breath of Sherlock, and his awesome smelling perfume.

The music became faster again.  
They danced on their own, but in front of each other, they smiled and grinned and laughed with each other, and during a few dances in between, Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and danced with him again.  
After more than an hour, they drunk some water and another drink at the bar, but John was the one, who dragged them onto the dance floor again.  
He enjoyed every sort of dance with Sherlock, if it was a slow one, a fast one, or just dancing on their own. He had never enjoyed it that much.

During their next dance together, Sherlock came a bit closer, his hand caressed along John’s spine upwards to his shoulder, his hands wandered down – a bit on John’s chest, and then he opened the second button from the light blue shirt. His finger slid in and he pulled it a bit off of John's chest, to have a look of what was hidden beneath the shirt.  
John grinned.  
“Hey, what are you doing?”  
“I’m too curious with your tattoos. It drives me mad.” Sherlock grinned.  
He could see a bit of colour, and the shape.  
John laughed and pushed him a bit away, to dance with him properly again.  
“Your impatience is unbelievable.”  
“I think, I will really like it,... what I could see, before you were rude and pushed me away, looked really good. The one you couldn’t talk about, it’s an army one. I’ve seen it a bit,... but as I say, you were rude and pushed me away.” Sherlock grinned.  
John still laughed, his voice was already really scratchy and dark, too, because of the screaming, when they hadn’t locked their lips with the others ear.  
“You’re right. But you have to wait until you can see the tattoos of your rude date.” John grinned, and got twirled around from Sherlock. 

After that, he winked at Sherlock through his glasses.  
Sherlock smiled widely, he had already tousled dark hair from dancing, as well as red cheeks.  
And it was the same with John, his grey hair was tousled, and his cheeks red like tomatoes.

And with a new song and a new twirl and new tender, elegant movements they enjoyed their date and the rest of the dancing night.


	18. I carry you home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a cozy little stroll and a few true words, which reveal much more than just friendship.

**\- Saturday, June/4 - 2016, London, Dance Club/221B Baker Street -**

It was nearly 3 o’clock in the morning; John and Sherlock were still at the Dance Club; they had danced a lot, but at the moment they stood at the bar and drank another glass of water.  
The DJ announced that the next song would be the last song for this night.  
Sherlock put his glass down and smiled at John. He reached John a hand, in an inviting gesture.  
“Can I have the last dance with you?”  
“Even though my feet are burning like hell, I would love to dance the last dance with you.”  
“I can’t see the fire.” Sherlock smirked.  
John rolled his eyes in amusement and laid his hand in Sherlock’s big hand.  
Sherlock took him to the dance floor again.

John followed him on his hand. He was really not that much into dancing, but that night, their three hours dancing night, had shown him, how much he was able to enjoy it. And to be honest, he would go dancing with him again – immediately.  
Sherlock faced John, laid his free hand on his lower back and smiled down to him.  
John smiled up to Sherlock, with beaming eyes.  
And when the new and the last song began, they moved with each other in harmony, and it had been getting better during the last three hours. Sherlock had shown him more moves and his lead made it easy for John to follow.

Sherlock twirled John across the dance floor during the fast song and when the song ended, he pulled John into his arms.  
There was still music in the background, but it was not that loud anymore, more light lit up.  
John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck. He hugged him tightly, stroked over the back of Sherlock’s head – and after his soft stroke, he tousled through his hair softly.  
“Come on, awesome dancer... let us fetch up our books.”  
Sherlock broke apart, he smiled down and nodded.

This time John took the lead, they walked back to the bar, and Amelia gave them back their books.  
“I shall greet you from Oliver, he’s already at home, his little princess is ill, and Caty was a bit afraid, so he already went home, but I shall tell you, that he had never seen you dancing that great. He didn’t want to disturb.” Amelia smiled.  
“Yeah, thanks, you can greet him tomorrow, or I will write him. And I was just that good, because I’ve had a great leader.” He smiled widely.  
Sherlock smiled, he stood close to John.  
Amelia smiled at him and John.  
“I will tell him. And you two looked great during dancing, a few women were jealous, they would have loved to dance with you two.”  
“Maybe next time. Special night tonight, so I wasn’t in the mood for sharing.” John smiled, he laid his hand on Sherlock’s lower back, who smiled down to him – proudly.  
“That’s what I thought. So, enjoy the rest of it.” She smiled at them.  
John smiled and nodded.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock said.

They said goodbye and walked through the club to the stairs and outside.  
They both had flushed cheeks, a bit of sweaty hair.  
John breathed in the fresh and cool air.  
“Oh, that’s great, It was sticky and hot in there.”  
“You’re right, it’s good to have some fresh air. So what about a stroll back to Baker Street?”  
“It’s a nearly forty minutes stroll?!” John said with a voice, which asked if Sherlock was really serious about his suggestion – after a long day at work, many drinks in a bar and three hours of dancing. His feet felt dead, maybe they were. He would check it later.  
“I know that, John.”  
“You wouldn’t carry me on your back?” John smiled charmingly.  
“No.” Sherlock grinned. “I won’t. What was it, what you said to me, when I asked if you could bring home some toes from the morgue for me? Oh, right... ” Sherlock grinned. “I would have two feet and I wouldn’t be paraplegic, so I could walk to the morgue myself.” He smirked with a wink. “And well, Dr. Watson, I see you have two feet and you aren’t paraplegic.”  
John pulled a smiling disappointed face, he slapped Sherlock’s upper arm.  
“Just delete these things out of your mind palace, like the solar system.” John grinned, and then he patted Sherlock’s back. “Okay, come on then, dancing bee... I carry you home... with a stroll.” John smiled gently.  
“Sounds great.” Sherock smiled and winked, he just ignored John’s talking about the solar system with a grin.

 

The night air was fresh, the moon was nearly in a full state, lightened up the night. They weren’t the only people, who strolled through Londons nighty streets.  
The light wind tousled through John’s and Sherlock’s hair. John lifted his hand and ran his fingers through his hair, he scratched his nape and yawned; he rearranged his glasses and let his arm sink down again.  
“Tired?” Sherlock asked softly.  
“Yes, at the moment I’m pretty tired.”  
“Right, you worked before we met in the bar.”  
“Yeah, was a bit busy today, nearly the whole day. What have you done?”  
“Sleep in, strolling through the city, barber,... relaxed a bit.” Sherlock smiled.  
“A sleep in? I like to hear that.”  
“It’s your success,... you made me feel really comfortable and cozy with your texts and the mails... and that good night ritual, so I felt more relaxed and was able to sleep much more.” Sherlock smiled.  
“It’s nice to hear that, Sherlock. And... you made me feel really comfortable as well.”  
Sherlock smiled softly.

John smiled, walked alongside Sherlock.  
They strolled through the streets.  
John’s eyes looked slowly to Sherlock, his head wasn’t moving. His heart raced madly, his stomach tingled, he was nervous. His eyes flicked briefly down to Sherlock’s hand, before he looked straight forward again.  
They were walking close to each other.  
John took a deep breath. And then he took Sherlock’s hand, entwined their fingers with each other, he didn’t dare to look at Sherlock.  
Of course, they had kissed each other on the cheeks and ears and temples, and they had held hands, during dancing, but to walk home with holding hands, made John nervous again.

Sherlock felt John’s hand, his fingers, the thumb, which caressed the back of his hand. His heart pounded immediately hard against his rib cage; his stomach tingled, his whole body tingled – holding hands with John, while walking home, to their flat, felt great; he, John, felt great, he made him feel comfortable, free and liked and loved.  
And if he was truly honest, he had enjoyed that night in that bar and in this dancing club much more, than any case he ever has had.  
He let his thumb ran across John’s back of the hand.  
He turned his head to John, who slowly turned his head to him.  
And then they smiled at each other happily.

 

They walked back to 221B Baker Street, with holding hands, racing hearts, tingling stomachs, and happy smiles.  
John let go Sherlock’s hand, he smiled at him, and pulled the key out of his trouser pocket. He unlocked the door and held the door open for Sherlock.

And when he was inside, John followed, closed the door, and took Sherlock’s hand in his again. He led him upstairs to their flat.  
Sherlock wanted to say something, but John shook his head. He walked to Sherlock’s bedroom.  
“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked.  
“I carry you home. And, I mean, we’re living together... so to carry you home properly, I have to bring you to your room.” John said with a smile.  
He stopped in front of Sherlock’s room.

There was a moment of silence, they looked at each other, took deep breathes.  
Sherlock broke the silence.  
“I... really liked our date. Thank you for that, the time at the bar was very nice, and I really enjoyed the dancing. Thank you for that date, John.” Sherlock mumbled softly.  
“I thank you, as well. Thank you for the great time in the bar, and the nice conversations, I really like to chat with you like that. And... thank you for showing me, how much fun dancing can be.” John smiled widely.  
They smiled at each other.

And then – silence again.  
And a few deep breathes.  
Sherlock looked insecure; he knew what he would want – John in his room, in his bed, in his arms, and much more – but he was unsure if John would want that too.  
John bit his lip, he struggled with a few words in his head.  
It was a tense romantic moment.

John blinked a few times, he bit his lip again. He needed to do what was in his head.  
He made a step forward, wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck and hugged him tightly.  
“Sherlock.” He murmured gently.  
Sherlock, caught by surprise, needed a few moments, until he hugged him back – tightly around the back.  
“Sherlock,... I hoped it’s you, I hoped so much that the guy I wrote with is you.” John whispered into Sherlock’s ears.  
And Sherlock stopped breathing immediately.  
“I hoped it so much, that I was afraid, that I would be disappointed, if there wouldn’t come my lovely genius.” John breathed. He swallowed, he needed to say it. He just needed to say it now. “During the writing, I fell in love with MisterBee... and at the same time my lovely flatmate and best friend and detective, showed me another side, things that were similar with MisterBee... and then... I had a crush on my flatmate. When you came to the bar tonight and we saw each other, I fell in love with you again... and during our date... I fell in love with you the third time.” He whispered softly.

Sherlock needed to take a few deep breaths when he ran out of air. He couldn’t believe what he just had heard.  
He swallowed and for a few moments he couldn’t say anything, but he hugged John even tighter.  
And John hugged him even tighter, too.  
Sherlock swallowed again. His heart was still racing, it almost freaked out – to be precise; it freaked out. And the butterflies in his stomach had never been busier.  
“I needed to remember how to breath.” Sherlock apologized.  
John smiled, his eyes were closed, he just listened to Sherlock’s dark voice, which was a bit shaky.  
“The whole day, I was hoping to meet you at the bar. I loved how our friendship had become closer and deeper in the last few months, and I felt that there is more than friendship... just like you said... a crush.” Sherlock murmured into John’s ear, who was frozen. “GrumpyTintin made me fall in love with him, every day a bit more. And then I saw who GrumpyTintin actually is... and I was falling for you again... and as you say... during our date, all these little chats, and the touching and kissing, the laughing and smiling, the dancing... I couldn’t help,... I fell in love with you again.” Sherlock whispered.

Silence.  
Tight hugs.  
Just warm breathings into each others ears.  
Racing heart, against racing heart.  
Butterflies, who mixed up with each other.

John couldn’t believe his luck.  
He broke the silence, which had been falling over 221B Baker Street.  
“Please, kiss me, Sherlock.” John breathed. “Kiss me.”  
Sherlock swallowed, he broke apart a bit, cupped John’s face.  
They locked eyes.  
A deep and warm blue. A sparkling silver-green.  
John broke the contact, for a few seconds, to look at Sherlock’s lips. He looked slowly up to him again, licked his lips.  
Sherlock leaned down and John stood up on his tiptoes.  
Their lips brushed against each other – slowly, softly, carefully. Just a few seconds.  
And after a few seconds they brushed against each other again – slowly, softly, carefully. Just a few seconds.  
Again a few seconds without contact.  
And then Sherlock’s lips cupped John’s. He kissed him with all the love he felt for him; he kissed him gently, tenderly, lovingly, slowly.  
John purred into the kiss, no one had ever kissed him like that. He felt his shaking knees.  
And he felt Sherlock’s soft tongue on his lower lip, which asked for entry.  
John parted his lips immediately, sighed.  
Their tongues met, they explored each other with a soft and tender dance, with a slow and carefully dance.  
There was no passion.  
There was just love.  
Deep and true love.

They only broke their loving kiss, because they ran out of air.  
Their lips broke apart with a smack noise.

John slowly opened his eyes.  
“Wow.” He breathed. “Do that again, please.” He still stood on his tiptoes.  
Sherlock looked at him with a smile, he still cupped John’s face with his hands.  
“I would love to go on with our date,... with kissing you and with exploring your tattoos – in our bedroom.” Sherlock breathed against John’s lips.  
“Where?” John asked again with beaming blue eyes. He needed to hear it again.  
“In our bedroom.” Sherlock beamed.  
“Our bedroom.... ” John murmured.

And then his self control was gone, he couldn’t wait any longer for a second kiss.  
He pulled Sherlock down, sank to his feet and locked their lips again.  
It was a happy kiss.


	19. The thing we didn't want to talk about - or - exploring my tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get hot in the bedroom.

\- Saturday, June/4 – 2016, 4.06 am, London, 221B Baker Street, main bedroom -

There was a cracking noise when John pushed Sherlock against the bedroom door. He kissed him hard and needy; one hand grabbed Sherlock’s nape, the other one searched for the door handle.  
And when he found it, they both stumbled kissing in their bedroom.  
John cupped Sherlock’s face, who returned his kiss with hunger and longing.  
Their kiss was passionate, their tongues didn’t explore each other, they didn’t dance with each other, they just fought with each other – with passion, need and longing.  
They fought for dominance – Sherlock lost.

They broke apart, gasping and panting for air. Their eyes sparkled, they looked at each other; John licked his lips, and so did Sherlock, when he scanned John’s body, still dressed with glasses, a light blue shirt and navy blue trouser.  
They both slipped out of their shoes.  
And then Sherlock’s hands grabbed John’s shirt collar.  
“I can’t wait to see you naked.” He said with a deep voice, pressed him a kiss on the purring lips.

His hands loosened the grab, and slid down to the third button. Slowly and gently, he unbuttoned the shirt, while John stood there, with closed eyes, and a relish smile.  
And when Sherlock brushed the shirt from John’s shoulders, John purred and sighed with pleasure.  
The shirt sailed down to the ground.  
Sherlock pressed him to the bed, pushed him down slowly. He crawled into the bed as well, on all four; he was hovering above John, who was lying on his back in the bed.

John’s heart raced, his eyes fluttered open when Sherlock’s forefinger breathed across his left side of his chest. He looked to Sherlock, whose eyes were fixed with the tattoos on his chest.  
Sherlock’s finger breathed across the ripped open British flag tattoo, to the army one; he brushed with his fingertip across every little coloured line. His eyes were beaming.  
“It suits you very well. I really like these two.” He murmured, while John was smiling.  
Sherlock bent down and dedicated soft kisses on the tattoos, which made John goose bumps, and he purred and moaned with pleasure.  
“Hmm, Sherlock,... your lips feel great.” He purred with closed eyes.

But the lips were gone a few moments later.  
A finger brushed across John’s upper arm, across the third tattoo, the big one. The finger breathed across the hidden violin body – the tea cup, hide the lower bout and the skull, hide the upper bout; the finger breathed across the violin neck, the pegbox and the stroll. And in the end, the finger breathed across the forehead of the skull – the 221B sign. It was coloured with a light blue.  
Sherlock swallowed.  
“That’s... wow. That’s the tattoo you dedicated me?”

John opened his eyes a bit.  
“Yes, it is. My love for tea, your love for drugged tea. Your skull friend, who became less important when we both met. Your love for classical music and the violin, my love for you playing the violin. And our shared flat. Our home, which is just home... when you’re there. I’ve missed you so much, and just my blog, a few pictures and memories weren’t enough for me, when you were gone. I needed something else, something that’s always with me, and reminds me of you, our friendship, and the thing you did for me – saving my life... and it turned out you saved it again, when you were gone.” John murmured softly.

Sherlock swallowed, looked to the tattoo and then to John.  
“The meaning of it is beautiful, as well as the drawing. Thank you for that. It’s pretty awesome. I really love it.” Sherlock beamed with touched damp eyes.  
He bent down to John’s upper arm, kissed the tattoo from the bottom to the top, along John’s shoulder, collarbone, neck, jaw, chin – until he suppressed John’s moans with a tender kiss.

John returned the kiss, his hands grabbed Sherlock’s hips, and ran under the dark polo-shirt, Sherlock was wearing. He caressed the warm bare skin, shoved the polo-shirt upwards with his soft strokes.  
They broke the kiss, Sherlock sat up, lifted his arms, and helped John with pulling off the polo-shirt. Then he bent down and kissed John’s chin, his jaw line, to his ear.  
“I think I’ve much more kinks, than I expected to have.”  
“Oh Jesus, please tell me your kinks.” John purred hoarsely.  
“Oh, there’s a Military kink,... which is great, because you’re a captain. And well, since I saw you in your medical clothes at the A&E - those white trousers; the trainers; the white, tight polo-shirt; and the medical scrub – since then, I definitely have a Doctor kink,... which is also great, because you’re a doctor. And the two new kinks are a John Watson Glasses kink, and a Tattoo kink.” He whispered into John’s ear, with his dark and deep arousing voice.

John swallowed hard.  
“Jesus, just hearing you, talking about your kinks, is pure sex. I’m massively turned on by that.”  
“Do you have any kinks? Except my voice, which seemed to turn you on really much.”, Sherlock groaned softly into John’s ear.  
“I have a Military kink, and it’s great to have you at my side, because it’s much hotter, to share this with a guy; and well, I think, I have a Doctor kink as well, or is it a Patient kink? I mean, I’m a doctor, and I don’t want to fuck another doctor, but I really like it, if someone’s calling me that during sex.” John revealed with a hoarse voice.  
“I will call you whatever you want, if Doctor Watson, Sir or Captain Watson,... but tonight, I would love to call you just John.” Sherlock purred.  
“I’m absolutely fine with that.” John sighed.

Sherlock smiled, kissed John’s ear, along his jaw line, his chin, to his Adam’s Apple; he sucked softly, felt the vibration of John’s moan, and he also could hear his loud moan.  
“We’re not alone John.” Sherlock breathed against the Adam’s Apple, and kissed down to John’s chest.  
“I don’t care,... she already thinks that we’re fucking each other,... don’t mention her again tonight.”  
Sherlock chuckled softly.  
He kissed John’s chest, rubbed his nose across it, felt the tingle on his lips and nose and chin of the light amount of grey chest hair; while John was stroking along his spine, to his nape, into his hair, playing with the dark strands

They both purred, moaned and sighed from time to time.  
Sherlock’s tongue circled John’s left nipple, the teeth bit into it, and the lips kissed the sensitive spot.  
“Bloody hell, it’s amazing.” John moaned lustfully, he tugged at Sherlock’s hair, who moaned in pleasure.  
Sherlock’s lips teased John’s nipple, until it was very hard, which didn’t take long. His mouth travelled across John’s upper body, with tender kisses, soft bites and gentle licks.  
He was busy with John’s little tummy, could feel the goose bumps and the hot skin, and taste John’s specific smell.  
After a last kiss, he raised his head.

“God, John, you look gorgeous under your jumpers and shirts. You shouldn’t wear them.”  
John’s eyes fluttered open again, he was massively turned on, and his throbbing cock, pressed against his trouser.  
“Thanks, love. But... I need to wear something.”  
“I wouldn’t care.”  
John chuckled softly.  
“Well, darling,... I wouldn’t care if you would be naked right now. And I would love to be naked as well, it’s not comfortable in my trousers and shorts anymore.”  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, looked down and kissed the huge bulge.  
John moaned loudly.  
“Oh, I see.” Sherlock winked.

Sherlock opened the button and the zipper. And John helped him, with lifting his hips. Sherlock pulled the trouser down, shoved it from the bed; he bent down, kissed the bulge again, which made John moan even louder.  
John watched Sherlock, who pulled down the black boxer briefs, bent down and kissed the tip of John’s cock. It wasn’t much longer than the average, but it was thick. And it was already hard, throbbing and leaking with precum.  
Sherlock licked the precum away.

John tugged at Sherlock’s hair, moaning loudly, with fluttered closed eyes. He loved blowjobs, whether it was a man or a woman; but from a man he loved it much more. But tonight, he didn’t want just a blowjob, he wanted to fuck Sherlock, or to be precise, he didn’t really want to fuck him, he wanted to make love with him.  
Tender, loving, soft, gentle, a bit of passion.

John pulled him upwards, turned around with him. He slipped out of his socks, crawled over Sherlock, bent down and kissed him lovingly.  
Sherlock returned his kiss, sank into the sheets comfortably.  
They both sighed into their kiss, weren’t willing to end it.  
John’s hands fumbled the jeans button and zipper open, while he kissed Sherlock tenderly.  
He bit into Sherlock’s lower lip, sucked at it softly, which made Sherlock moan.  
John freed Sherlock’s lip slowly, looked at him and kissed his nose.  
“I don’t know where to put my hands or lips, I would love to touch you everywhere at the same time.”  
Sherlock smiled softly, his hand breathed across John’s back, into his hair, before he cupped his face and put John’s glasses down. He folded them and laid them onto the bedside drawer – then he looked back to John.  
“I would love that, too. But at the moment I can hardly wait to make love with you – so exploring my whole body, would be evil teasing.”  
John smiled and kissed his lips once.  
“So you want me to undress you... and make love to you?”  
“Exactly.” Sherlock purred.

They smiled with lustful delighted eyes at each other; they were just black, deep, loving seas.  
John bent down again, kissed along Sherlock’s neck, softly to his collarbone; licked a wet trace across the heated skin to his right nipple; he bit gently into it, nibbled, could hear Sherlock’s pleasurable moans and purrs, and could feel his soft scratching along his spine.  
They both shivered at the same moment.  
John took a deep breath, breathed Sherlock in, kissed further downwards; he enjoyed the soft skin, the flat stomach, the smell of Sherlock, his moans and purrs and sighs, his goose bumps, his own goose bumps, Sherlock’s scratching.  
As he reached Sherlock jeans and boxer brief, Sherlock lifted his hips, and John pulled them down, shoved them with the socks to the side; they slid from the bed.  
And his lips kissed Sherlock’s shin bone, the knee, the thigh.  
“John.” Sherlock purred in pure relish.  
John licked the precum off of Sherlock’s long and slender erection, kissed the tip afterwards.  
“Oh, John, please.” Sherlock moaned with a begging tone.

John sat up, let his forefinger breath across Sherlock’s flat stomach.  
“Lube is in the drawer?” He asked softly, and licked his lips.  
Sherlock nodded, he turned his head around, opened the bedside drawer and took out the bottle of lube. He handed John the bottle.  
“Thanks, love.” John smiled.  
“My pleasure.” Sherlock winked.

John sat between Sherlock’s legs, which were spread now and angled. He dropped the bottle onto the bed next to him, his hands rubbed across Sherlock’s inner thighs, to his arse; he massaged Sherlock’s buttocks.

And Sherlock just relaxed, his mind was turned off since a long time, he just wanted to feel; and the things he felt were amazing. John’s hands felt absolutely awesome, as well as his lips. He felt completely comfortable and happy with himself and John. He closed his eyes, his lips were parted.  
He moaned, when John’s finger rubbed softly and carefully across his puckering hole; and the lips kissed his stomach.  
The finger didn’t disappear, but he could hear the click of the bottle.  
And then he felt John’s wet, cool left finger, instead of his right one, on his hole. He drew circles, and when he slid in slowly, he needed to claw at the sheets and to tug at John’s hair.  
A longing noise escaped his throat.  
“Ohh, Jesus, John. That feels great.”  
John pressed a kiss on his hip; his finger slid into Sherlock, opened him softly and slowly, with gentle caresses, with a soft rubbing across the prostate, which made Sherlock moan even louder.  
“John, darling, please... ” Sherlock begged with a lustful voice.  
“Hmh, I can’t wait to make love with you,... with your luscious butt.” John mumbled between two kisses, against Sherlock’s stomach.

He added a second finger, scissored him tenderly, rubbed across the prostate, every now and then.  
Sherlock was melting away beneath John; he moaned, purred, sighed, tugged at the sheets and John’s hair. He had goose bumps all over his body, his heart raced in an amorously pace, his stomach tingled.  
John made him feel very loved and relaxed – it was a loving harmony, as if it wouldn’t be the first time they would have sex with each other.  
He had the feeling he had never been more ready as now.  
The rubbing and scissoring had opened him up for John, and he was eager to feel him inside of him, to feel his soft rhythm, his thick cock; he was eager to hear John’s moans during their sex, his moans, purrs, groans, sighs and maybe a few filthy words, a name; he was eager to see John’s face during their sex, during John’s orgasm, his face after his climax.  
“John,... please, I need you, just you, darling.” He begged softly, opened his eyes.

John beamed down, Sherlock’s darling was something he would never get bored of. It made his butterflies fly in his tummy, it made his heart race fondly, it even made him goose bumps.  
He took the bottle again, pressed lube into his hand, stroked his own twitching erection.  
“Oh fuck Sherlock. You look gorgeous, you feel gorgeous,... you just are gorgeous.” John breathed softly.  
John bent down to Sherlock, who wrapped his legs around John’s hips immediately.  
John’s arm slid under Sherlock’s shoulder and nape, the other hand supported his body weight, next to Sherlock’s head.  
They smiled at each other with lustful, luscious and warm eyes.  
It was a question.  
It was an answer.  
It was a promise of both of them.  
It was a declaration.

John’s erections slid into Sherlock’s wet, tight, hot and puckering whole.  
And for a moment, the world stood still, and the only thing, which was to hear, was a pleasurable sigh, in a deep voice, and a warm and nasal voice.  
Sherlock’s hands stroked across John’s back, into his hair, down the spine, to the butt.  
And John began to move.  
They moaned, closed their eyes, locked their lips for a soft kiss.

John thrust into Sherlock, tenderly and slowly, while Sherlock’s hands ran across his back.  
They searched a rhythm, while John’s lips kissed along Sherlock’s jaw line, and sucked at his neck.  
They found a rhythm, tenderly, lovingly, a bit of passion.  
John nibbled on Sherlock’s ear, moaned into it.  
“Oh god, I almost have forgotten how amazing anal sex is. Fuck, you feel so great around my cock.” John groaned in Sherlock’s ear.  
Sherlock grabbed John’s arse, pressed him closer, moaned.  
John thrust a bit faster.  
“John, oh god, John... you’re feeling awesome. Oh my god, it’s great.” Sherlock purred.  
He wrapped his legs around John’s hips, pressed him closer.  
John breathed heavily into Sherlock’s ear, he enjoyed it, to feel Sherlock’s heated skin and to hear his deep purring and moaning voice. These sounds were music in his ears. And he felt so good.

He bit into Sherlock’s neck, kissed the point tenderly afterwards, nudged with his nose.  
Sherlock purred and moaned again, he was melting away. His hand stroked John’s back upwards and the fingernails scratched downwards again, before his fingertips breathed across his back, upwards over his neck and into his hair.  
John shivered.  
“Fuck, that was great. Jesus, honey, please do it again.”, he purred.  
And Sherlock did it again, the same procedure across a back full of goose bumps.

John thrust into him lovingly, his eyes fluttered open and he looked at Sherlock, locked eyes with him.  
Sherlock’s mouth hung open, he moaned silently, but the second moan came out loudly.  
“John.”  
John leaned his forehead against Sherlock’s, kissed his nose, and his hand caressed across Sherlock’s heated body.  
Their lips found each other, and while John was thrusting with a tenderly rhythm and Sherlock joined him, they kissed each other with all the love they felt for each other.

There was a gasp from Sherlock when they broke apart, their lips were swollen.  
“Jesus, John... you’re a great kisser and an awesome lover.” He purred with a deep and hoarse voice.  
His cock was twitching and leaking, he was moaning in pure pleasure.  
John smiled, his hand slid between them and his fingers breathed along Sherlock’s throbbing cock.  
“Oh yes,... don’t stop that.” Sherlock moaned.  
“I wouldn’t dare... ” John moaned, and leaned down to his ear. “ ...William.” He added with a warm, loving and longing voice.  
Sherlock shivered, he couldn’t believe it, but it turned him on even more. He pressed John closer with his legs and tugged at his hair.  
“Fuck.” Sherlock breathed out.

John took Sherlock’s cock in his hand, he breathed the thumb across the top, which was covered with a lot of precum.  
“Jesus, John, what are you doing to me?”  
“I’m making love with you, because you have made me fall in love with you, you beautiful loveable man.”  
Sherlock bit his lips, he swallowed.

Their rhythm became faster, more passionate, but they didn’t lose the loving and tender bits.  
John bit his lips, his hand stroked Sherlock’s leaking cock, who seemed to lose all his self control.  
“God, I can’t hold it back any longer.” He moaned deeply.  
“Just let go, sweetheart.” John hummed hoarsely.

Sherlock closed his eyes, he pressed his head into the pillow, and just let go. The feeling of John’s cock in his arse, the stroking hand, the caressing thumb, and the kissing lips, were just too much. He came with a deep and relish moan on his lips, and mumbled John’s name in pleasure over and over again – while John was thrusting into him, and stroking him through his orgasm.  
But as soon as Sherlock relaxed an sighed in pleasure, after the last wave of orgasm was over, John couldn’t hold it back.  
The orgasm rolled through every vein of his body and he reached his climax loudly.  
“Fuckfuckfuck... Sherlock.”  
He purred, he sighed, he moaned – and all these noises left his mouth in pure pleasure and relish.  
God, he felt so good.

John leaned his forehead against Sherlock’s, locked eyes with him.  
They were both sweaty, they panted and gasped – but their eyes beamed into each other.  
They shared little, soft pecks,until their hearts had calmed down.  
And after that they shared a shower, which was more a cuddle session, than anything else.

 

Both men sank down on the bed. Their hair was damp, the bodies naked. They slipped under the cover, faced each other.  
The heads rested on the pillows, they smiled widely at each other.  
John slipped closer, shoved one leg between Sherlock’s. He raised his hand, and let his finger draw little circles on Sherlock’s upper arm, which wasn’t covered with the blanket.  
Sherlock smiled; his fingers lay on John’s chest and the fingertips breathed across the warm skin.  
“I... would have been fallen in love with you, John... even without that dating website and app.”  
“Me too, Sherlock. Me too.” John smiled, and kissed Sherlock’s nose.

Sherlock smiled, gave John a soft peck on the lips.  
“Tonight, we’re able to say good night in real life.” Sherlock murmured.  
“I can’t wait for it.” John beamed.

Sherlock winked softly. He raised his hand, he ran it tenderly through John’s damp hair and kissed his temple softly and carefully.  
“Good night, cute little cheeky devil.” Sherlock smiled.  
John smiled even wider.  
He raised his hand again, patted softly Sherlock’s damp hair, stretched up a bit and kissed the soft hair.  
“Good night, curly pirate.” John murmured.

And then he slipped as close as possible, wrapped his arms around Sherlock, and pressed his face into his crook of the neck.  
“You wrote, you wouldn’t care if I crawl into you, because I’m such a cuddler.” John murmured.  
“Totally right,... darling.”Sherlock smiled.

And he switched off the light, before he wrapped his arms around John.


	20. Tea and Biscuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's having a little surprise.

-Saturday, June/4 – 2016, London, 221B Baker Street -

The sunlight flooded through the window of the bedroom, covered John’s face with a light touch. He was still sleeping, but almost awake. The sun lit up the room so much, that it wasn’t dark enough for John to sleep properly, and a warm body was missing besides him.  
He rolled over, faced the other wall, so that the sun wasn’t bothering him anymore. He pressed his face into the pillow, sighed.

Sherlock walked out of the bathroom again, he came back to the bed, crawled into it and bent over John. He bent down and kissed John’s cheek.  
John sighed by the touch of Sherlock’s lips. A soft smile flickered across his face.  
Sherlock smiled as well.  
“John... “ He whispered into John’s ear, kissed it afterwards.  
John sighed again, hummed something, that Sherlock couldn’t understand.  
“John... darling.” Sherlock whispered again. “Wake up, you lazy, adorable man.” He murmured softly into John’s ear.  
“Why?” John hummed.  
“There’s a surprise for you... and it wouldn’t be as good as is it now, when you will lay around any longer.” Sherlock’s voice was warm.

“A surprise?” John turned on his back and opened one eye.  
“Hmh.” Sherlock smiled. “But you need to get up for this. I’m sorry. But it will be worth it. I promise.”  
“I can’t get up without a good morning kiss.” John murmured with a sleepy smile.  
“Oh, is that so? You're just able to walk, when someone kissed you in the morning? It’s a medical condition I never heard of.” Sherlock grinned softly.  
“No surprise. You aren’t a doctor... but I am. It’s a medical condition you will have your whole life, once you come down with it. I can feel that I captured it a few hours ago. And, just with a kiss, the sick person is able to move properly in the morning.”  
Sherlock laughed with a hearty baritone.  
“You’re a weird doctor.”  
“Just shut the fuck up, Sherlock, and kiss me!” John grinned.  
Sherlock grinned widely. He bent down and kissed John’s lips tenderly and with all his love.

John purred into the kiss.  
God, he needed to wake up like that every morning from now on.  
“Good morning, John.” Sherlock smiled, kissed John’s lips again softly. “Have you slept well?”  
John smiled, his eyes beamed.  
“Morning, Sherlock. Yeah, I’ve slept very well. And you? Why are you already awake?” John mumbled. He stretched up and kissed Sherlock’s lips with two little pecks.  
“Me as well. Just woke up an hour ago,... and watched you a bit... and well, then I got up a few minutes ago for your surprise.” Sherlock winked. ”You really should get up now.”  
John smiled lovingly.

He rubbed his eyes, yawned and let his hand run through his hair. He sat up and stretched a bit.  
And then he saw the untidy bedroom with all the clothes on the floor.  
“What happened?” John asked, and scratched his neck.  
“Um,... couldn’t decide what to wear... and then it was too late to clean up.” Sherlock said with flushed cheeks.  
John turned his head to him and grinned with a cute expression.  
“Lovely. I would have loved to see that. Well, love,... your decision was perfect. You looked dashing.” John winked and kissed Sherlock’s cheek, before he got up with excitement. “Naked Sherlock is even better... but let’s talk about my surprise. Where is it?” John beamed happily.  
Sherlock scanned him properly. All the tattoos; the scar, one couldn’t see that good, because of the tattoos; his chest and the little tummy; his cock – just his whole body.  
“I loved your outfit as well... and a naked John is even better as well.” Sherlock smiled, and stood up. “The surprise is in the bathroom.”  
John grinned softly.

 

Both naked men went to the bathroom.  
The bathtub was full of hot, steaming water, and a lot of foam. And on the edge of the bathtub was standing a steaming cup of tea and a plate with some biscuits.  
Towels lay in front of the bathtub.

John’s mouth hung open – for a short moment, he had thought that the surprise would be just an excuse so that he would stand up.  
But the surprise was real – and it was fucking perfect.  
John turned his head to Sherlock. His heart skipped a beat.  
“Oh my god. Sherlock! Wow,... that’s, Jesus, that’s just perfect. Just to take a bath is perfect... but the tea and the biscuits are the clincher.” John beamed like mad. “God, I hope you will join me.”  
Sherlock smiled.  
“Glad you like it.” Sherlock admitted. “And, of course I will join you.”  
“Of course I fucking like it. I mean we have talked about it. And I really would have loved if you would have been there.” John beamed. “Come on, let’s get in.”  
He leaned in and kissed Sherlock euphorically, before he stepped in front the bathtub.  
Sherlock smiled after him and followed him.

They both got in.  
John smiled like a happy young boy, after he had sat down. He faced Sherlock, with warm eyes.  
“That’s really cute. I love it. I really love it. Shall I tell you something?... I love that.” John beamed happily.  
And that John loved that surprise that much, was enough for Sherlock, to be really happy as well.  
“Now that we have the possibility to do it, it would be a shame, wouldn’t we do it.”  
John nodded with a big smile. He patted Sherlock knee, which was looking a bit out of the foam.  
“May I tell you something?”  
“You love it?” Sherlock grinned.  
“That’s true.“John grinned. “But it wasn’t what I wanted to say. I wanted to say, that I’m glad, that you weren’t this cute and adorable and loveable before we met. I mean, someone else would have noticed a hot and adorable man like you,... and then you would be in a relationship right now... and not with me. That would be awful.” John smiled.  
Sherlock grinned softly.  
“I would have broken up for you.”  
John laughed.

He turned around after he hs calmed down, and took one of the biscuits.  
“Do you want some, love?” John asked softly.  
“No, thanks, it’s all yours. I’ve eaten a few biscuits when I’ve waited for your tea.” Sherlock smiled.  
He slipped closer and wrapped his legs around John’s waist.  
John smiled softly, before he bit into the biscuit.  
Sherlock laid his hands on John’s shoulders, and then he began to massage him – softly and skilled.  
“Oh god.” John sighed, after he had swallowed the chewed biscuit. He closed his eyes. “Jesus, that’s lovely. Really,... you need to do all this sometimes. Not every time, then it wouldn’t be something special anymore. But it would be lovely, if you would fetch me up from work sometimes, or if you would come for lunch or dinner to the clinic. And it would be lovely to have a tea and biscuit bathtub time sometimes.” John purred.  
“I will do it, now I have a good reason to do that.” Sherlock smiled and massaged John’s shoulders softly.  
“Hmm,... I like that reason as well. And when my feet are alive again, we will go dancing again.” John smiled with closed eyes. He put the rest of the biscuit into his mouth.  
“You would do that? You really would go to that dance club with me again?”  
John nodded with a big smile and chewed.  
“Thanks John. It means much to me.”  
John nodded again and swallowed.  
“I know, darling. That’s why we will go again, and because it was really fun. I really loved it. I would have danced the whole night with you, if they hadn’t closed. I think it’s something I could do with you on a regular basis.” He opened his eyes and beamed when he saw Sherlock’s beaming eyes.

Sherlock just beamed at him and massaged John’s shoulders and his nape.  
“Your tattoos are really hot in daylight.” Sherlock admitted. “I never liked tattoos, but it’s a totally different thing with you, and they are great, they suit you very much. Like I said a few hours ago, it’s unbelievable what’s hidden beneath these jumpers.” Sherlock smiled lovingly.  
John smiled back, he raised his hand and caressed Sherlock’s cheek.  
“I’m really glad you like them.” He bent forward and kissed Sherlock’s lips tenderly. “But when it’s cold outside, I will still wear my jumpers.” John smirked, and kissed Sherlock’s lips again. “Admit it, you would miss them.” Again a kiss on the lips.  
Sherlock smiled, he played the game with him, kissed John’s lips before he said something.  
“I admit it, I would miss this awful oatmeal jumper.” He smiled, kissed him. “And your ugly Christmas jumpers.” He grinned with John, they kissed again. “But I would just miss them because you’re looking really cute into them.” A soft kiss, a bite into John’s lips, a brief suck, which made John moan. “But without these jumpers, you’re a fucking hot guy.”  
John shivered.  
“God, it’s fucking hot, to hear you say fuck.” His hand ran into Sherlock’s hair, the other hand ran down his spine. “I love to see you with your suit style... but, honestly,... you look hot and adorable as hell in casual clothes. Could you wear that more often?”  
Sherlock purred.  
“I will, if you wear more often your glasses.” He smiled, kissed John’s nose.  
John nodded with a smile.

Sherlock’s hands massaged down John’s back, who leaned his head against Sherlock’s collar bone. He closed his eyes and enjoyed Sherlock’s long and warm fingers, with massaged him. It felt amazing, and so he snuggled even closer. He breathed him in, sighed.  
He always felt cozy and comfortable, he always felt cheered up and satisfied – always and immediately when there was a mail from or a chat with MisterBee – he had felt it in every fibre of his body.  
But now it was different, he felt more cozy and comfortable, he felt more cheered up and satisfied. And the reason for that was, that MisterBee wasn’t just a guy. It was Sherlock, and that was the fact, that made it perfect.

John opened his eyes again, he raised his hands and cupped Sherlock’s face. He looked at him, locked their eyes with each other.  
Sherlock bowed his head, scanned John’s eyes.  
Across John’s face flickered a smile which got with every second even wider, and so got Sherlock’s, until they were beaming at each other lovingly and tenderly.  
“I love you, Sherlock.” John said with a warm voice.  
Sherlock swallowed, his hands massaged John's back upwards again, and then he cupped his face as well.  
“I love you too, John.” Sherlock said gently.


	21. 221B Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hangover.  
> A lazy, cuddling day.  
> Their first day with each other.  
> A text from Lestrade.
> 
> And Sherlocks decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the final chapter.
> 
> I hope you all have enjoyed the story.  
> :-)
> 
> If you want to give me prompts, I'm on Twitter: janomartinJMC

**\- Saturday, June/4 – 2016, London, 221B Baker Street, living room, the sofa -**

John and Sherlock were lying around on the sofa – together.  
They cuddled, while they were watching some television program John had switched on.  
You’ve been Framed, or something like that. A program made of funny, disgusting and hurtful homemade videos.  
Actually, Sherlock had laughed during almost every clip, or he had made a noise, that sounded like it would’ve hurt him too, even so, he was just watching it.  
He was totally into it, and John enjoyed it really much.  
Sherlock was lying in front of him.  
And John had wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s chest.  
They had decided to have a lazy day; John had been at work yesterday and after that, they had had their date, they had been dancing, they had made a long stroll home, and they had had amazing, loving sex.  
And they both had a bit of a hangover.

A noise from a text message let Sherlock raise his head.  
It had been his phone.  
John already broke a bit apart, so that Sherlock would be able to stand up.  
Sherlock sat up, he turned a bit around, bent down and kissed John’s cheek, before he stood up and saw in the corner of his eye John’s happy smile.

He walked to the table in the living room and opened the message from Lestrade.

\- _Sherlock, there’s a triple murder and we got stuck. We could need your help, and maybe John’s as well. We’re already at the crime scene. Whitechapel, Crofts Street._ -

Sherlock read it and turned his head briefly to John. He didn’t need to think about it a second, not one second.  
He wrote back.

\- _I can’t this weekend, Gavin. I’m busy with something else. But I could help you from Monday on, if you still need my help then. I could come to the Yard in the morning. Or you just text me where you are. Sorry. There’s something else this weekend, which is more important. S.H._ -

\- _Thank you anyway. I’ll text you on Monday morning, where I am, and if we still need your help. But I suppose, that we will. I research as much for you as possible. Maybe I will have a Heureka moment. Whatever you’re up to on this weekend – have fun. And thanks for coming on Monday. ( - Gavin ;-) )_ - _  
_

Sherlock needed to smile and to grin.  
It actually was one of the nicest texts he had ever gotten back from Lestrade. And of course, he knew that his name was Greg. But as John said a couple of weeks ago – they probably would both missed it, if he would call him Greg.  
He laid the phone back onto the table.

He walked to the sofa again and sat down.  
“Who was it?” John asked with a smile.  
Luckily how he was, he hadn’t missed any of the homemade videos because of Lestrades texts – just the advertisement.  
“Lestrade.” Sherlock said.  
“And???” John asked.  
“Nothing.” Sherlock smiled. He bent down to John and kissed his lips tenderly. “Nothing important, that couldn’t wait until Monday. Nothing that could wait until you're at work again, as well. It’s weekend right... and you’ve no shift. So, the message wasn’t important.” He murmured against John’s lips.

John had closed his eyes, had listened to Sherlock, and he was sure it had been a case.  
Sherlock was waiting until Monday to get a look at this probably big and interesting case, just because he had the weekend off.  
Sherlock was waiting until Monday, because he seemed to find it more important to spend two free days with him.  
His heart raced like mad.

It was more than an I love you.  
It was a gesture, that shows actually, that Sherlock was changing his priorities, to be able to spend a normal weekend, like a normal couple.  
Because it was meaningful for him and for Sherlock himself.

Sherlock kissed John’s lips again. He just smiled down and laid down again.  
John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s chest and pressed him as close as possible.

“Thank you.”


End file.
